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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


<C^    V 


(?yi 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  NATIONS 

A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE 
PHILOSOPHY    OF    HISTORY 


^^^^ 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

H«W  YORK   ■    BOSTON    •    CHICAGO   •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA   •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  ■  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  ^LACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


THE   PSYCHOLOGY   OF 
NATIONS 

A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE 
PHILOSOPHY  OF  HISTORY 


y  BY 
f.  Ef  PARTRIDGE 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1919 

All  rights  reserve^ 


D/6.? 
P3f 


COPTBIOHT,  1919 

Bv  TIIE   MACMILLAN   COMPAKY 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Fublifihed,  November,  1919 


PREFACE 

This  book  contains  two   closely   related  studies  of  the 
consciousness  of  nations.     It  has  been  written  during  the 
closing  months  of  the  war  and  in  the  days  that  have  fol- 
lowed,  and    is   completed   while   the   Peace   Conference   is 
still  in  session,  holding  in  the  balance,  as  many  believe,  the 
fate  of  many  hopes,  and  perhaps  the  whole  future  of  the 
world.     We  see   focussed  there   in   Paris  all  the  motives 
that  have  ever  entered  into  human  history  and  all  the  ideals 
that  have   influenced   human   affairs.     The   question   must 
have  arisen  in  all  minds  in  some  form  as  to  what  the  place 
of  these  motives  and  ideals  and  dramatic  moments  is  in 
the  progress  of  the  world.     Is  the  world  governed  after 
all  by  the  laws  of  nature  in  all  its  progress?     Do  ideals  and 
motives  govern  the  world,  but  only  as  these  ideals  and  mo- 
tives are  themselves  produced  according  to   biological   or 
psychological  principles?     Or,  again,  does  progress  depend 
upon  historical  moments,  upon  conscious  purposes  which 
may  divert  the  course  of  nature  and  in  a  real  sense  create  the 
future  ?     It  is  with  the  whole  problem  of  history  that  we  are 
confronted  in  these  practical  hours.     At  heart  our  problem 
is  that  of  the  place  of  man  in  nature  as  a  conscious  factor 
of  progress.     This  is  a  problem,  finally,  of  the  philosophy 
of    history,    but    it    is    rather    in  a    more    concrete    way 
and  upon  a  different  level  that  it  is  to  be  considered  here, — 
and    somewhat    incidentally    to    other    more    specific   ques- 
tions.    But  this  is  the  problem  that  is  always  before  us, 
and  the  one  to  which  this  study  aims  to  make  some  con- 
tribution, however  small. 

The  first  part  of  the  book  is  a  study  of  the  motives  of 


vi  Preface 

war.  It  is  an  analysis  of  the  motives  of  war  in  the  Hght 
of  the  general  principles  of  the  development  of  society.  We 
wish  to  see  what  the  causes  of  past  wars  have  been,  but  we 
wish  also  to  know  what  these  motives  are  as  they  may 
exist  as  forces  in  the  present  state  of  society.  In  such  a 
studv.  practical  questions  can  never  be  far  away.  We 
can  no  longer  study  war  as  an  abstract  psychological  prob- 
lem, since  war  has  brought  us  to  a  horrifying  an(l  humiliat- 
ing situation.  We  have  discovered  that  our  modern  world, 
with  all  its  boasted  morality  and  civilization,  is  actuated, 
at  least  in  its  relations  among  nations,  by  very  unsocial  mo- 
tives. We  live  in  a  world  in  which  nations  thus  far  have 
been  for  the  most  part  dominated  by  a  theory  of  States  as 
absolutely  sovereign  and  independent  of  one  another.  Now 
it  becomes  evident  that  a  logical  consequence  of  that  theory 
of  States  is  absolute  war.  A  prospect  of  a  future  of  absolute 
war  in  a  world  in  which  industrial  advances  have  placed 
in  the  hands  of  men  such  terrible  forces  of  destruction,  an 
absolute  warfare  that  can  now  be  carried  into  the  air 
and  under  the  sea  is  what  makes  any  investigation  of  the 
motives  of  war  now  a  very  practical  problem. 

If  the  urgency  of  our  situation  drives  us  to  such  studies 
and  makes  us  hasten  to  apply  even  an  immature  sociology 
and  psycholog)\  it  ought  not  to  prejudice  our  minds  and 
make  us.  for  example,  fall  into  the  error  of  wanting  peace 
at  any  price  —  an  ideal  which,  as  a  practical  national 
philosophy,  might  be  even  worse  than  a  spirit  of  militarism. 
What  we  need  to  know,  finally,  in  order  to  avoid  these 
errors  which  at  least  we  may  imagine,  is  what,  in  the  most 
fundamental  way,  progress  may  be  conceived  to  be.  If  we 
could  discover  that,  and  set  our  minds  to  the  task  of  making 
the  social  life  progressive,  we  might  be  willing  to  let  wars 
take  care  of  themselves,  so  to  speak,  without  any  radical 
philosophy  of  good  and  evil.  We  ought  at  least  to  exam- 
ine war  fairly,  and  to  see  what,  in  the  waging  of  war, 
man  has  really  desired.     A  study  of  war  ought  to  help  us  to 


Preface  vii 

decide  whether  we  must  accept  our  future,  with  its  possibil- 
ity of  wars,  as  a  kind  of  fate,  or  whether  we  must  now 
begin,  with  a  new  idea  of  conscious  evolution,  to  apply  our 
science  and  our  philosophy  and  our  practical  wisdom  seri- 
ously for  the  first  time  to  the  work  of  creating  history,  and 
no  longer  be  content  merely  to  live  it. 

As  to  the  details  of  the  study  of  war  —  we  first  of  all 
consider  the  origin  and  the  biological  aspects  of  war;  then 
war  as  related  to  the  development,  in  the  social  life  and  in 
the  hfe  of  the  individual,  of  the  motive  of  power.  The 
instincts  that  are  most  concerned  in  the  development  of 
this  motive  of  power  are  then  considered,  and  also  the 
relations  of  war  to  the  aesthetic  impulses  and  to  art.  Na- 
tionalism, national  honor  and  patriotism  are  studied  as 
causes  of  war.  The  various  "  causes  "  that  are  brought 
forward  as  the  principles  fought  for  are  examined ;  also  the 
philosophical  influences,  the  moral  and  religious  motives 
and  the  institutional  factors  among  the  motives  of  war. 
Finally  the  economic  and  political  motives  and  the  historical 
causes  are  considered.  The  conclusion  is  reached  that  the 
motive  of  power,  as  the  fundamental  principle  of  behavior 
at  the  higher  levels,  is  the  principle  of  war,  but  that  in  so 
general  a  form  it  goes  but  a  little  way  toward  being  an 
explanation  of  war.  We  find  the  real  causes  of  war  by  trac- 
ing out  the  development  of  this  motive  of  power  as  it 
appears  in  what  we  call  the  "  intoxication  impulse,"  and  in 
the  idea  of  national  honor  and  in  the  political  motives  of 
war.  It  is  in  these  aspects  of  national  life  that  we  find 
the  motives  of  war  as  they  may  be  considered  as  a  practical 
problem.  But  we  find  no  separate  causes,  and  we  do  not 
find  a  chain  of  causes  that  might  be  broken  somewhere 
and  thus  war  be  once  for  all  eliminated.  Wars  are  prod- 
ucts of  the  whole  character  of  nations,  so  to  speak,  and 
it  is  national  character  that  must  be  considered  in  any  prac- 
tical study  of  war.  It  is  by  the  development  of  the  char- 
acter of  nations  in  a  natural  process,  or  by  the  education 


viii  Preface 

of  naticMial  character,  that  war  will  be  made  to  give  way 
to  perpetual  j)cace,  if  such  a  state  ever  comes,  rather  than 
by  a  political  readjustment  or  by  legal  enactments,  however 
necessary  as  l)cginnings  or  makeshifts  these  legal  and  polit- 
ical changes  may  be. 

The  second  part  of  the  book  is  a  study  of  our  present 
situation  as  an  educational  problem,  in  which  we  have  for 
the  first  time  a  problem  of  educating  national  conscious- 
ness as  a  whole,  or  the  individuals  of  a  nation  with  reference 
to  a  world-consciousness.  The  study  has  reference  espe- 
cially to  the  conditions  in  our  own  country,  but  it  also  has 
general  significance.  The  war  has  brought  many  changes, 
and  in  every  phase  of  life  we  see  new  problems.  These  may 
seem  at  the  moment  to  be  separate  and  detached  conditions 
which  must  be  dealt  with,  each  by  itself,  but  this  is  not 
so;  they  are  all  aspects  of  fundamental  changes  and  new 
conditions,  the  main  feature  of  which  is  the  new  world-con- 
sciousness of  which  we  speak.  Whatever  one's  occupation, 
one  cannot  remain  unaffected  by  these  changes,  or  escape  en- 
tirely the  stress  that  the  need  of  adjustment  to  new  ideas  and 
new  conditions  compels.  \\'hat  we  may  think  about  the  fu- 
ture —  about  what  can  be  done  and  w^hat  ought  to  be  done,  is 
in  part,  and  perhaps  largely,  a  matter  of  temperament.  At 
least  we  see  men,  presumably  having  access  to  the  same 
facts,  drawing  from  them  very  different  conclusions.  Some 
are  keyed  to  high  expectations;  they  look  for  revolutions, 
mutations,  a  new  era  in  politics  and  everywhere  in  the  so- 
cial life.  For  them,  after  the  war,  the  Avorld  is  to  be  a 
new  world.  Fate  will  make  a  new  deal.  Others  appear  to 
believe  that  after  the  flurry  is  over  we  shall  settle  down  to 
something  very  much  like  the  old  order.  These  are  con- 
servative people,  who  neither  desire  nor  expect  great 
changes.  Others  take  a  more  moderate  course.  While 
improvement  is  their  great  word,  they  are  inclined  to  believe 
that  the  new  order  will  grow  step  by  step  out  of  the  old,  and 
that  good  will  come  out  of  the  evil  only  in  so  far  as  we 


Preface  ix 

strive  to  make  it.  We  shall  advance  along  the  old  lines 
of  progress,  but  faster,  perhaps,  and  with  life  attuned  to 
a  higher  note. 

The  writer  of  this  book  must  confess  that  he  belongs 
in  a  general  way  to  the  third  species  of  these  prophets. 
There  is  a  natural  order  of  progress,  but  the  good  must, 
we  may  suppose,  also  be  worked  for  step  by  step.  The 
war  will  have  placed  in  our  hands  no  golden  gift  of  a  new 
society;  both  the  ways  and  the  direction  of  progress  must 
be  sought  and  determined  by  ideals.  The  point  of  view  in 
regard  to  progress,  at  least  as  a  working  hypothesis,  be- 
comes an  educational  one,  in  a  broad  sense.  Our  future  we 
must  make.  We  shall  not  make  it  by  politics.  The  institu- 
tions with  which  politics  deals  are  dangerous  cards  to  play. 
There  is  too  much  convention  clinging  to  them,  and  they 
are  too  closely  related  to  all  the  supports  of  the  social 
order.  The  industrial  system,  the  laws,  the  institutions  of 
property  and  rights,  the  form  of  government,  we  change 
at  our  own  risk.  Naturally  many  radical  minds  look  to  the 
abrupt  alteration  of  these  fundamental  institutions  for  the 
cure  of  existing  evils,  and  others  look  there  furtively  for 
the  signs  of  coming  revolution,  and  the  destruction  of  all 
we  have  gained  thus  far  by  civilization.  But  at  a  differ- 
ent level,  where  life  is  more  plastic  —  in  the  lives  of  the 
young,  and  in  the  vast  unshaped  forms  of  the  common  life 
everywhere,  all  this  is  different.  We  do  not  expect  abrupt 
changes  here  nor  quick  and  visible  results.  Experimenta- 
tion is  still  possible  and  comparatively  safe.  There  is  no 
one  institution  of  this  common  and  unformed  life,  not  even 
the  school  itself,  that  supports  the  existing  structures,  so 
that  if  we  move  it  in  the  wrong  way,  everything  else  will 
fall.  \\'hen  we  see  we  are  wrong,  there  is  still  time  to  cor- 
rect our  mistakes. 

Our  task,  then,  is  to  see  what  the  forces  are  that  have 
brought  us  to  where  we  stand  now,  and  to  what  influences 
they  are  to  be  subjected,  if  they  are  to  carry  us  onward 


X  Prrfdcc 

and  upward  in  our  course.  Precisely  what  the  changes  in 
government  or  anywhere  in  the  social  order  should  be  is 
not  the  ciiief  interest,  from  this  point  of  view.  The  de- 
tails of  the  constitution  of  an  international  league,  the 
practical  adjustments  to  be  made  in  the  fields  of  labor, 
and  in  the  commerce  of  nations,  belong  to  a  different  order 
of  problems.  We  wish  rather  to  see  what  the  main  cur- 
rents of  life,  especially  in  our  own  national  life,  are.  and 
what  in  the  most  general  way  we  are  to  think  and  do,  if 
the  present  generation  is  to  make  the  most  of  its  opportuni- 
ties as  a  factor  in  the  work  of  conscious  evolution. 

The  bibliography  shows  the  main  sources  of  the  facts 
and  the  theories  that  have  been  drawn  upon  in  writing  the 
book.  Some  of  the  chapters  have  been  read  in  a  little 
different  form  as  lectures  before  President  G.  Stanley  Hall's 
seminar  at  Clark  University.  More  or  less  of  repetition, 
made  necessary  in  order  to  make  these  papers,  which  were 
read  at  considerable  intervals,  independent  of  one  another, 
has  been  allowed  to  remain.  Perhaps  in  the  printed  form 
this  reiteration  will  help  to  emphasize  the  general  psycholog- 
ical basis  of  the  study. 


CONTENTS 


FACE 

Preface       v 


PART  I 

NATIONAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  THE  MOTIVES 

OF  WAR 

CHAPTER 

I     Origins  and  Biological  Considerations     ....       3 
II    Unconscious   Motives,  the  Reversion   Theories  of 

War,  and  the  Intoxication  Motive 17 

III  Instincts  in  War:  Fear,  Hate,  the  Aggressive  Im- 

pulse, Motives  of  Combat  and  Destruction,  the 
Social  Instinct 3^ 

IV  Aesthetic  Elements  in  the  Moods  and  Impulses  of 

W^\R 70 

V  Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor  .     .  78 

VI  "  Causes  "  as  Principles  and  Issues  in  War    ...  97 

VII  Philosophical  Influences no 

VIII  Religious  and  Moral  Influences 117 

IX  Economic  Factors  and  Motives 128 

X  Political  and  Historical  Factors 142 

XI  The  Synthesis  of  Causes I53 

PART  II 

THE  EDUCATIONAL  FACTOR  IN  THE  DEVELOP- 
MENT OF  NATIONS 

I     Educational  Problems  of  the  Day 161 

II     Internationalism  and  the  School 168 


C  UN  I  in  Is 

CIIAPTRII  PACP. 

Ill       InTKRNATIONALISM    AM)  THE   ScUOOL    {CoiltillUCcl )    .        .  184 

I  \'     I'kace  and  Militarism 197 

\      The  Teachinc.  of  Patriotism 211 

\'I      The  Teachinc.  of  Patriotism   {Continued)       .      .      .  226 

\ll     I'oi.iTicAL  Education  in  a  Democracy 242 

VIII     Industry  and  Education 269 

IX     N'ew  Social  Problems 290 

X     Relic.ion  and  Education  After  the  War  ....  305 

XI     Humanism 309 

XII     Aesthetic  E.xperience  in  Education 315 

XIII     Moods  and  Education:  A  Review 319 

Bibliography 327 

Index 331 


PART  I 

NATIONAL  CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  THE 
MOTIVES  OF  WAR 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  NATIONS 

A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  PHILOSOPHY 
OF  HISTORY 

CHAPTER  I 

ORIGINS   AND   BIOLOGICAL   CONSIDERATIONS 

The  simplest  possible  interpretation  of  the  causes  of  war 
that  might  be  offered  is  that  war  is  a  natural  relation  be- 
tween original  herds  or  groups  of  men,  inspired  by  the  pred- 
atory instinct  or  by  some  other  instinct  of  the  herd.  To 
explain  war,  then,  one  need  only  refer  to  this  instinct  as 
final,  or  at  most  account  for  the  origin  and  genesis  of  the  in- 
stinct in  question  in  the  animal  world.  Some  writers  ex- 
press this  very  view,  calling  war  an  expression  of  an  instinct 
or  of  several  instincts ;  others  find  different  or  more  complex 
beginnings  of  war. 

Nusbaum  (86)  says  that  both  offense  and  defense  are 
based  upon  an  expansion  impulse.  Nicolai  (79)  sees  the 
beginning  of  war  in  individual  predatory  acts,  involving  vio- 
lence and  the  need  of  defense.  Again  we  find  the  migratory 
instinct,  the  instinct  that  has  led  groups  of  men  to  move 
and  thus  to  interfere  with  one  another,  regarded  as  the 
cause  of  war,  or  as  an  important  factor  in  the  causes. 
Sometimes  a  purely  physiological  or  growth  impulse  is  in- 
voked, or  vaguely  the  inability  of  primitive  groups  to  adapt 
themselves  to  conditions,  or  to  gain  access  to  the  necessities 
of  life.  Le  Bon  (42)  speaks  of  the  hunger  and  the  desire 
that  led  Germanic  forces  as  ancient  hordes  to  turn  them- 
selves loose  upon  the  world. 

3 


4  Tlif   I'sytlioloyy   uf  Nations 

Lcavinj^'  aside  for  tlie  moment  the  (luestion  of  the  nature 
of  the  impulses  or  instincts  which  actuated  the  conduct  of 
men  originally  and  brought  them  into  opposition,  as  groups, 
to  one  another,  we  do  lind  at  least  some  suggestion  of  a 
working  hypothesis  in  these  simple  explanations  of  war. 
(irantcd  the  existence  of  groups  formed  by  the  accident  of 
birth  and  based  upon  the  most  primitive  protective  and  eco- 
nomic associations,  and  assuming  the  presence  of  the  emo- 
tions of  anger  and  fear  or  any  instinct  which  is  expressed 
as  an  imjiulse  or  habit  of  the  group,  we  might  say  that  the 
conditions  and  factors  for  the  beginning  of  warfare  are  all 
present.  When  groups  have  desires  that  can  best  and  most 
simply  be  satisfied  by  the  exertion  of  force  upon  other 
groups,  something  equivalent  to  war  has  begun. 

If  we  take  the  group  (as  herd  or  pack)  and  the  instinct 
as  the  original  factors  or  data  of  society,  however,  we  prob- 
ably simplify  the  situation  too  much.  The  question  arises 
whether  the  motives  are  not  more  complex,  even  from  the 
beginning,  and  whether  both  the  tendencies  or  impulses  by 
which  the  group  was  formed  or  held  together  and  the  mo- 
tives behind  aggressive  conduct  against  other  groups  have 
not  been  produced  or  developed  in  the  course  of  social  rela- 
tions, rather  than  have  been  brought  up  from  animal  life, 
or  at  any  point  introduced  as  instincts.  We  notice  at  least 
that  animals  living  in  groups  do  not  in  general  become  ag- 
gressive within  the  species.  Possibly  it  was  by  some  peculi- 
arity of  man's  social  existence,  or  his  superior  endowment 
of  intelligence  or  some  unusual  quality  of  his  instincts,  per- 
haps very  far  back  in  animal  life,  that  has  in  the  end  made 
him  a  warlike  creature.  Man  does  seem  to  be  a  creature 
of  feelings  rather  than  of  instincts  as  far  back  as  w^e  find 
much  account  of  him.  and  to  be  characterized  rather  by  the 
weakness  and  variability  of  his  instincts  than  by  their  defi- 
niteness.  It  is  quite  likely,  too,  that  man  never  was  at  any 
stage  a  herd  animal :  in  fact  it  seems  certain  that  he  was  not, 
and  that  his  instincts  were  formed  long  before  he  began  to 


Origins  and  Biological  Considerations  5 

live  in  large  groups  at  all.  So  he  never  acquired  the  mech- 
anisms either  for  aggression  or  defense  that  some  creatures 
have.  Apparently  he  inherited  neither  the  physical  powers 
nor  the  warlike  spirit  nor  the  aggressive  and  predatory  in- 
stincts that  would  have  been  necessary  to  make  of  him  a  nat- 
ural fighting  animal;  but  rather,  perhaps,  he  has  acquired 
his  warlike  habits,  so  to  speak,  since  arriving  at  man's  estate. 
Endowed  with  certain  tendencies  which  express  themselves 
with  considerable  variability  in  the  processes  by  which  the 
functions  of  sex  and  nutrition  are  carried  out,  man  never 
acquired  the  definiteness  of  character  and  conduct  that  some 
animals  have.  He  learned  more  from  animals,  it  may  be, 
than  he  inherited  from  them,  and  it  is  quite  likely  that  far 
back  in  his  animal  ancestry  he  had  greater  flexibility  or 
adaptability  than  other  animals.  The  aggressive  instinct, 
the  herd  instinct,  the  predatory  instinct,  the  social  instinct, 
the  migratory  instinct,  may  never  have  been  carried  very 
far  in  the  stock  from  which  man  came.  All  this,  however, 
at  this  point  is  only  a  suggestion  of  two  somewhat  diver- 
gent points  of  view  in  regarding  the  primitive  activities 
of  man  from  which  his  long  history  of  war-making  has 
taken  rise. 

The  view  is  widely  held  and  continually  referred  to  by 
many  writers  on  war  and  politics,  that  the  most  fundamental 
of  all  causes  of  war,  or  the  most  general  principle  of  it, 
is  the  principle  of  selection  —  that  war  is  a  natural  struggle 
between  groups,  especially  between  races,  the  fittest  in  this 
struggle  tending  to  survive.  This  view  needs  to  be  exam- 
ined sharply,  as  indeed  it  has  been  by  several  writers,  in 
connection  with  the  present  war.  This  biological  theory  or 
apology  of  war  appears  in  several  forms,  as  applied  to-day. 
They  say  that  racial  stocks  contend  with  one  another  for 
existence,  and  with  this  goes  the  belief  that  nations  fight 
for  life,  and  that  defeat  in  war  tends  towards  the  extermina- 
tion of  nations.  The  Germans,  we  often  hear,  were  fighting 
for  national  existence,  and  the  issue  was  to  be  a  judgment 


6  Tin-   PsycJioluyy   u(  Naiiuus 

upon  the  fitness  of  their  race  to  survive.  This  view  is  very 
often  expressed.  O'Ry.in  and  Anderson  (5),  mihtary  writ- 
ers, for  example,  say  that  the  same  aggressive  motives  pre- 
vail as  always  in  warfare:  nations  struggle  for  survival,  and 
this  struggle  for  survival  must  now  and  again  break  out 
into  war.  Powers  (75)  says  that  nations  seldom  light  for 
anything  less  than  existence.  Again  (15)  we  read  that 
conflicts  have  their  roots  in  history,  in  the  lives  of  peoples, 
and  the  sounder,  and  better,  emerge  as  victors.  There  is 
a  selective  process  on  the  part  of  nature  that  applies  to 
nations;  they  say  that  especially  increase  of  population 
forces  upon  groups  an  endless  conflict,  so  that  absolute 
hostility  is  a  law  of  nature  in  the  world. 

These  views  contain  at  least  two  very  doubtful  assump- 
tions. One  is  that  nations  do  actually  fight  for  existence, — 
that  warfare  is  thus  selective  to  the  point  of  eliminating 
races.  The  other  is  that  in  warlike  conflicts  the  victors  are 
the  superior  peoples,  the  better  fitted  for  survival.  Con- 
fusion arises  and  the  discussion  is  complicated  by  the  fact 
that  conflicts  of  men  as  groups  of  individuals  within  the 
same  species  are  somewhat  anomalous  among  biological 
forms  of  struggle.  Commonly,  struggle  takes  place  among 
individuals,  organisms  having  definite  characteristics  and 
but  slightly  variable  each  from  its  own  kind  contending 
with  one  another,  by  direct  competition  or  through  adapta- 
tion, in  the  first  case  individuals  striving  to  obtain  actually 
the  same  objects.  Or.  again,  species  having  the  same  rela- 
tions to  one  another  that  individuals  have,  contend  in  a 
similar  manner. 

Primitive  groups  of  men,  however,  are  not  so  definite; 
they  are  not  biological  entities  in  any  such  sense  as  individ- 
uals and  species  are.  They  are  not  definitely  brought  into 
conflict  with  one  another,  in  general,  as  contending  for  the 
same  objects,  and  it  is  difficult  to  see  how,  in  the  beginning, 
at  least,  economic  pressure  has  been  a  factor  at  all  in  their 
relations.     Whatever  mav  have  been  the  motive  that  for  the 


Origins  and  Biological  Considerations  7 

most  part  was  at  work  in  primitive  warfare,  it  is  not  at 
all  evident  that  superior  groups  had  any  survival  value. 
The  groups  that  contended  with  one  another  presumably 
differed  most  conspicuously  in  the  size  of  the  group,  and 
this  was  determined  largely  by  chance  conditions.  Other 
differences  must  have  been  quite  subordinate  to  this,  and 
have  had  little  selective  value.  The  conclusion  is  that 
the  struggle  of  these  groups  with  one  another  is  not  essen- 
tially a  biological  phenomenon. 

The  fact  is  that  peace  rather  than  war,  taking  the  history 
of  the  human  race  as  a  whole,  is  the  condition  in  which 
selection  of  the  fittest  is  most  active,  for  it  is  the  power 
of  adaptation  to  the  conditions  of  stable  life,  which  are 
fairly  uniform  for  different  groups  over  wide  areas,  that 
tests  vitality  and  survival  values,  so  far  as  these  values  are 
biological.  It  may  be  claimed  that  war  is  very  often,  if 
not  generally,  a  means  of  interrupting  favorable  selective 
processes,  the  unfit  tending  to  prevail  temporarily  by  force 
of  numbers,  or  even  because  of  qualities  that  antagonize 
biological  progress.  Viewing  war  in  its  later  aspects,  we 
can  see  that  it  is  often  when  nations  are  failing  in  natural 
competition  that  they  resort  to  the  expedient  of  war  to  com- 
pensate for  this  loss,  although  they  do  not  usually  succeed 
thereby  in  improving  their  economic  condition  as  they  hope, 
or  increase  their  chance  of  survival,  or  even  demonstrate 
their  survival  value.  It  is  notorious  that  nations  that  con- 
quer tend  to  spend  their  vitality  in  conquest  and  introduce 
various  factors  of  deterioration  into  their  lives.  The  infer- 
ence is  that  a  much  more  complex  relation  exists  among 
groups  than  the  biological  hypothesis  allows.  Survival  value 
indeed,  as  applied  to  men  in  groups,  is  not  a  very  clear  con- 
cept. There  may  be  several  different  criteria  of  survival 
value,  not  comparable  in  any  quantitative  w^ay  among  them- 
selves. 

Scheler  {yy)  says  that  we  cannot  account  for  war  as  a 
purely  biological  phenomenon.     Its  roots  lie  deep  in  organic 


8  Tlw  Psychology  of  Nations 

life,  hut  there  is  no  direct  development  or  exclusive  develop- 
iiKMit  from  animal  hchavior  to  human.  War  is  peculiarly 
human.  That,  in  a  way,  may  be  accepted  as  the  truth. 
Warfare  as  we  know  it  among  human  groups,  as  conflict 
within  the  species  is  due  in  some  way  to,  or  is  made  possible 
by,  the  secondary  differentiations  within  species  which  give 
to  groups,  so  to  speak,  a  pseudo-specific  character.  And 
these  differences  depend  largely  upon  the  conditions  that 
enter  into  the  formation  of  groups, —  upon  desires,  impulses 
and  needs  arising  in  the  social  life  rather  than  in  instinct 
as  such.  These  characteristic  differences  are  not  variations 
having  selective  value,  but  are  traits  that  merely  differentiate 
the  groups  as  historical  entities.  These  secondary  varia- 
tions have  not  "resulted  in  the  elimination  of  those  having 
inferior  qualities,  but  have  shared  the  fortunes  of  the  groups 
that  possessed  them, —  the  fortunes  both  of  war  and  of 
peace.  IVar,  from  this  point  of  view,  belongs  to  history 
rather  than  to  biology.  It  belongs  to  the  realm  of  the 
particular  rather  than  to  the  general  in  human  life.  War 
has  favored  the  survival  of  this  or  that  group  in  a  particular 
place,  but  has, probably  not  been  instrumental  in  producing 
any  particular  type  of  character  in  the  world,  either  physical 
or  mental. 

Very  early  in  the  history  of  mankind,  in  fact  as  far  back 
as  we  can  trace  history,  we  find  these  psychic  differentia- 
tions, as  factors  in  the  production  of  war.  There  are  sig- 
nificant extensions  and  also  restrictions  of  the  consciousness 
of  kind  pertaining  to  the  life  of  man.  as  distinguished  from 
animals.  Animals  have  not  sufficient  intelligence  to  estab- 
lish such  perfect  group  identities  as  man  does,  and  they  lack 
the  affective  motives  for  carrying  on  hostilities  among 
groups.  They  remain  more  clearly  subjected  to  the  simple 
laws  of  biological  selection,  and  are  guided  by  instincts 
which  do  not  impel  them  to  act  aggressively  as  groups  to- 
ward their  own  kind.  Man  proceeds  almost  from  the  be- 
ginning to  antagonize  these  laws,  so  that  it  is  very  likely 


Origins  and  Biological  Considerations  9 

that  the  best,  in  the  biological  sense,  has  always  had  some 
disadvantage,  in  human  life,  and  may  still  have.  The  real 
value  that  has  thus  been  conserved  by  this  human  mode  of 
life  consists  in  preserving  a  relatively  large  number  of 
secondary  types  or  individual  groups,  rather  than  in  insuring 
the  predominance  of  any  one  biologically  superior  type. 
Man's  zvork  in  the  world  is  to  make  history.  Even  though 
war  were  a  means  of  making  a  biologically  superior  type 
of  man  prevail  we  should  not  be  justified  in  saying  that  it 
is  thus  vindicated  as  a  method  of  selection. 

Many  writers  whom  we  do  not  need  to  review  in  great 
detail  have  contributed  to  the  objections  to  the  biological 
principle  as  an  explanation  of  war.  Trotter  (82)  examines 
the  doctrine  that  war  is  a  biological  necessity,  and  says  that 
there  is  no  parallel  in  biology  for  progress  being  accom- 
plished as  a  result  of  a  racial  impoverishment  so  extreme 
as  is  caused  by  war,  that  among  gregarious  animals  other 
than  man  direct  conflict  between  major  groups  such  as  can 
lead  to  the  suppression  of  the  less  powerful  is  an  incon- 
spicuous phenomenon,  and  that  there  is  very  little  fighting 
within  species,  for  species  have  usually  been  too  busy  fight- 
ing their  external  enemies.  Mitchell  (10)  says  that  war  is 
not  an  aspect  of  the  natural  struggle  for  existence,  among 
individuals  ;  that  there  is  nothing  in  Darwinism  that  explains 
or  justifies  wars;  that  the  argument  from  race  is  worthless 
since  there  are  no  pure  races.  M'Cabe  (76)  maintains  that 
war  is  not  a  struggle  between  inferior  and  superior  national 
types.  Dide  (20)  also  discusses  the  question  of  differences 
of  race  as  causes  of  war,  and  the  use  that  has  been  made 
of  this  dogma.  Chapman  (39)  says  that  no  race  question 
is  involved  in  the  present  war  as  has  been  supposed.  There 
is  no  conflict  of  economic  forces,  no  nations  compelled  to 
seek  expansion. 

Precisely  how  warfare  originated  (assuming  that  it  arose 
in  one  way)  we  shall  probably  never  know,  since  we  cannot 
now  reconstruct  the  actual  historv  of  man.     We  think  of 


lO  'I'lir   Psychology   of  Nations 

men  as  living  at  lirst  in  ^n'oups  containing  a  few  individuals, 
and  presumably  for  a  long  time  these  small  and  isolated 
groups  of  men  prevailed  as  the  type  of  human  society.  We 
can  already  detect  the  elements  of  conflict  in  these  groups, 
but  whether  warfare  in  the  sense  of  deadly  conflict  origi- 
nated there  we  cannot  know  ;  or  whether  it  was  only  in  the 
experience  of  men  as  large  migrating  hordes  which 
had  been  formed  by  the  amalgamation  of  smaller  groups 
untler  the  intluence  of  hunger  or  climatic  change,  that  war- 
fare in  any  real  sense  came  into  the  world.  We  do  not 
know  to  what  extent  the  small  groups  of  men  we  find  in 
conditions  of  savagery  now  represent  primitive  conditions. 
Fortunately,  however,  some  of  these  problems  of  origin  are 
of  but  little  practical  importance  and  their  interest  is  chiefly 
antiquarian  or  historical. 

The  assumption  that  in  the  behavior  of  original  groups 
of  men  war  arose  as  a  natural  result  of  the  life  of  the  group 
seems  to  be  an  allowable  hypothesis.  Whether  warlike  con- 
duct came  by  some  modification  of  the  habits  brought  up 
from  animal  life  as  instinctive  reactions,  or  whether  man 
invented  warfare  from  some  strong  motive  peculiar  to  hu- 
man life,  and  produced  it  intelligently,  so  to  speak,  under 
stress  of  circumstances  may  have  to  remain  an  open  ques- 
tion so  far  as  conclusi\e  evidence  is  concerned.  What  we 
lack  is  a  knowledge  of  the  type  and  form  of  the  instincts  of 
man  in  his  first  stages,  and  the  degree  and  kind  of  intelli- 
gence he  had.  But  the  reconstructed  pre-human  history  of 
man  so  far  as  we  can  make  it  seems  to  show,  as  we  have  al- 
ready suggested,  that  early  man  could  have  had  no  definite 
herd  instincts  or  pack  instincts  such  as  some  of  the  animals 
have,  that  his  habits  were  plastic  and  guided  by  intelligence 
rather  than  by  impulse.  His  social  life,  his  predaceous 
habits,  the  habit  of  killing  large  game,  his  warfare  must 
have  been  a  gradual  acquisition,  and  from  the  beginning 
have  been  very  different  as  regards  motive  and  development 


Origins  and  Biological  Considerations  1 1 

from  animal  behavior  which  judged  externally  may  seem  to 
be  like  it  in  character  and  to  have  the  same  ends. 

There  are  already  inherent  in  any  group  of  human  indi- 
viduals that  fits  into  such  knowledge  of  man  past  and  pres- 
ent as  we  have,  all  the  necessary  motives  of  warfare  in  some 
form.  There  are  the  reactions  of  anger  made  to  any  threat 
or  injury,  fear,  the  predaceous  impulse  and  habit,  originat- 
ing in  hunger,  the  motives  arising  in  sexual  rivalry.  These 
motives  are  the  source  of  behavior  toward  both  members 
of  the  group  and  outsiders.  There  is  no  absolute  dis- 
tinction between  these  objects.  It  is  of  the  nature  of  man 
to  be  both  aggressive  and  social.  One  instinct  or  mo- 
tive did  not  come  from  the  other,  since  there  are  emotions 
and  desires  at  every  stage  that  tend,  some  of  them  to  unite 
and  some  to  disrupt,  the  group.  The  sense  of  difference  of 
kind  and  the  fear  of  the  strange  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
effect  of  propinquity  and  practical  necessity  in  the  conduct 
in  regard  to  the  familiar  on  the  other  make  the  reactions 
different  in  degree  in  the  two  spheres  but  not  different  in 
kind.  There  is  no  aggressive  instinct  or  war  motive  that 
is  directed  exclusively  toward  the  outsider.  Certain  tenden- 
cies toward  violence  and  strife,  modified  and  controlled 
within  the  group,  become  unrestrained  when  directed  toward 
the  stranger.  Among  these  motives  are  those  of  sexual 
rivalry,  fear,  anger,  desire,  and  the  play  motive  as  an  ex- 
pression of  any  instinctive  habits  of  aggression  that  may 
have  been  phyletically  established. 

Since  every  individual  creature  has  his  needs  that  can  be 
satisfied  only  by  preying  in  some  way  upon  other  animals  of 
his  own  species  or  others,  the  motives  for  strife  are  original 
in  organic  life.  Every  animal  lives  in  a  world  of  which  he 
is  suspicious,  and  rightly  so.  He  is  suspicious  toward  the 
members  of  his  own  kind  and  group,  and  toward  all 
strangers  he  shows  watchfulness  and  fear.  There  are  two 
motives,  therefore,  of  a  highly  practical  nature  that  con- 


12  Tlir   Psyrhnlngy   of  Nations 

tribute  to  a  f^cncral  state  of  unfriendliness  in  animal  life. 
Both  the  motives  of  conflict  within  the  group,  the  habit  of 
aggression  and  its  complement,  fear,  and  the  jealousy  and 
display  motive  (the  display  itself  probably  having  originated 
as  a  show  of  ferocity  on  the  part  of  males)  must  have  been 
transferred  to  relations  between  groups  as  a  natural  result 
of  the  proximity  of  groups  to  one  another,  although'  this 
process  is  not  quite  so  simple  as  this  would  imply,  since  in 
part  the  outside  groups  are  produced  by  these  very  same 
antagonistic  motives  in  the  group,  for  example  the  driving 
out  of  young  males  because  of  sexual  jealousy.  The  pres- 
ence of  other  groups  must  have  excited  all  the  motives  of 
warfare  at  a  very  early  stage,  and  this  contrast  had  the 
effect  of  stimulating  the  social  feeling  of  the  group  and  de- 
veloping control  of  impulses  on  the  part  of  individuals 
within  the  group  toward  one  another.  So  the  motives  of 
combat,  as  shown  within  the  group  and  toward  outsiders, 
developed,  so  to  speak,  by  a  dialectic  process. 

Fear  and  the  predatory  impulse,  the  sexual  and  display 
motive,  play  or  the  hunting  activity  as  a  pleasure  for  its 
own  sake,  with  a  desire  perhaps  to  practice  deception  and 
to  exercise  intelligence,  presumably  introduced  some  kind 
and  degree  of  definite  warfare  among  primitive  groups  of 
men  at  a  very  early  stage  of  human  life,  although  of  course 
such  a  conclusion  can  be  only  speculative.  Increasing  in- 
telligence, the  power  of  discriminating  and  of  reacting  to 
secondary  likenesses  and  differences,  and  especially  the  rec- 
ognition of  the  nature  of  death,  and  the  advantages  of  kill- 
ing rather  than  merely  overcoming  an  enemy,  the  discovery 
of  the  use  of  weapons,  introduced  warfare  into  the  world. 
Warfare  is.  then,  not  simply  the  negation  of  some  original 
principle  of  mutual  aid,  nor  yet  an  expression  of  instinctive 
aggressiveness  or  cruelty,  but  it  is  a  product  of  original  en- 
dowment, of  conditions  of  life,  and  of  intelligence  all  to- 
gether. It  is  practical,  but  at  no  stage  can  it  be  said  to  be 
iclwlly  practical.     Changes  must  ha^•e  taken  place  in  war- 


Origins  and  Biological  Considerations  13 

fare  as  in  other  social  reactions  as  men  passed  through  a 
number  of  stages  from  primitive  wandering  or  a  relatively 
unstable  life  to  a  stable  life,  but  the  motives  of  conflict  can- 
not have  been  added  to  in  any  essential  way.  Through  all 
the  course  of  history  all  the  motives  that  originally  made 
individuals  of  a  group  or  the  groups  as  wholes  antagonistic 
have  remained,  although  the  mental  processes  have  become 
generalized,  fused  and  transformed.  If  Gumplowicz  is 
right  we  can  still  detect  in  any  great  society  to-day  all  the 
primitive  individual  and  group  animosities,  tempered  down 
and  held  in  check  by  laws  and  customs,  but  still  existent  and 
by  no  means  overcome  and  made  innocuous. 

These  motives  of  warfare  might  best  be  traced  out  in 
four  more  or  less  definite  principles  of  conduct,  or  four  pur- 
poses of  war  that  appear  throughout  primitive  life.  These 
are:  i)  thievery,  including  wife  capture;  2)  the  fear  mo- 
tive; 3)  cannibalism;  4)  the  display  motive,  with  the  de- 
sire to  intimidate  and  to  display  power  (more  or  less  closely 
associated  with  the  play  motive,  the  love  of  hunting,  gaming 
and  the  dramatic  motive). 

Cannibalism,  of  course,  is  a  special  expression  of  the 
predatory  motive  in  general,  or  it  is  mainly  that.  Canni- 
balism was  certainly  established  early  in  primitive  life,  at 
least  early  enough  to  antedate  all  religion,  and  although  its 
origin  and  history  are  shrouded  in  mystery,  the  motive  was 
quite  certainly  practical.  Evidently  it  was  widespread  if 
not  universal.  Whether  it  was  introduced  as  a  result  of  a 
failure  of  animal  food,  as  some  think,  or  has-  a  still  more 
simple  explanation  as  a  part  of  the  original  impulse  which 
led  men  at  a  certain  stage  of  their  development  to  become 
hunters,  cannot  be  determined.  We  know,  however,  that 
the  alien  human  being  was  to  some  extent  included  under 
the  same  concepts  as  the  animal  enemy  and  prey,  and  pre- 
sumably some  of  the  strongest  motives  that  led  men  to 
attack  animals  also  included  man  as  an  object,  since  the 
alien  group  was  regarded  as  in  some  degree  different  in 


14  I  lie   Psychology   of  Nations 

kind  from  the  iii-^roup.  It  may  have  been  in  the  great 
mij^rations  when  all  the  aggressive  motives  were  increased 
that  cannibalism  became  fixed  as  a  habit. 

Cannibalism  may  well  have  been  the  primitive  motive  of 
warfare  as  serious  deadly  combat,  but  all  predatory  habits 
must  have  contributed  to  establishing  a  more  or  less  ha- 
bitual state  of  warfare  among  all  groups  of  men.  The 
predatory  raid,  with  the  reaction  of  defense,  when  carried 
on  as  a  group  activity  in  any  form,  is  in  fact  war,  so  far  as 
attack  and  defense  w^ere  serious  and  deadly,  and  intelligence 
and  weapons  were  sufficiently  developed  to  make  man  a  dan- 
gerous opponent.  This  predatory  motive,  of  course,  ex- 
tended to  all  desired  objects,  and  these  objects  must  have 
included  all  objects  that  could  most  simply  be  acquired  by 
stealing.  They  included  food,  women,  and  all  other  pos- 
sessions. The  custom  of  driving  out  young  males  from  the 
group,  by  the  jealousy  of  the  old  males,  and  of  preventing 
males  from  obtaining  females  within  the  group  must  have 
been  one  of  the  earliest  and  one  of  the  strongest  incentives 
to  predatory  warfare.  At  first  all  property  of  the  group, 
for  so  long  as  groups  were  wandering,  was  to  some  extent 
common,  and  attack  and  defense  must  have  been  common. 
The  objects  of  predatory  raids  w^hich  produced  group  com- 
bat must  have  changed  with  the  social  life.  When  habi- 
tation became  fixed  and  property  therefore  more  individual, 
probably  the  predatory  impulse  itself  became  relatively  a 
less  important  factor  in  combat. 

Two  motives  gro^v  out  of  the  practical  motives  of  combat, 
which  we  may  assume  to  have  been  the  original  motives. 
These  are  both  emotional  rather  than  instinctive.  Fear  and 
anger,  that  is  to  say,  become  more  or  less  detached  motives 
for  attack.  Fear  is  increased  with  the  increase  of  intelli- 
gence up  to  a  certain  point  at  least  —  with  the  increase 
of  the  capacity  for  understanding  danger,  and  of  the 
powers  of  man  to  become  dangerous.  All  the  experience  of 
combat  engenders  anger  and  hatred,  and  these  moods  of 


Origins  and  Biological  Considerations  15 

hatred  toward  enemies  are  cumulative,  absorb  all  the  de- 
tached motives  and  feelings  of  antagonism  between  groups, 
preserve  and  give  continuity  to  the  memories  of  conflict, 
and  so  produce  among  groups  the  fear  and  hate  motive. 
The  feeling  of  fear  arouses  the  motive  of  aggression,  and 
the  feeling  of  anger;  and  these  in  turn  generate  more  fear, 
until  both  the  moods  of  anger  and  fear  and  a  perpetual 
state  of  animosity  and  warfare  are  induced  among  contend- 
ing groups.  Thus  out  of  primitive  motives  of  combat  the 
feud  as  a  more  generalized  and  psychical  antagonism  is  pro- 
duced, and  these  states  are  possible  because  of  the  powers  of 
generalization  in  man  which  extend  to  the  emotions  and 
make  possible  the  formation  of  deep  moods. 

In  another  direction,  also,  the  practical  motives  tend  to 
be  superseded  by  more  abstract  and  more  subjective  mo- 
tives. Both  in  the  fear  and  anger  reactions  and  in  the  mo- 
tive that  originates  in  the  sexual  impulse  —  display  of  males, 
and  combat  with  reference  to  females  —  consciousness  of 
prowess  for  its  own  sake,  and  the  display  of  it  in  order 
to  intimidate  the  enemy,  arise.  Into  this  motive  of  war 
there  enter  all  the  antagonisms  that  come  from  self-con- 
sciousness, the  whole  force  of  the  diathesis  of  developing 
sexuality,  with  its  jealousy  and  cruelty,  and  tendencies  to 
perversion.  The  force  of  this  motive  of  prowess  must  at 
some  period  of  development  have  become  very  great.  It 
extends  out  into  a  love  of  combat  for  its  own  sake,  reen- 
forces  other  motives,  and  issues  in  the  more  abstract  mo- 
tives of  honor  and  power  that  we  see  playing  such  a  great 
part  in  modern  warfare. 

These  primitive  motives  of  war  are  not  merely  numerous. 
They  fuse,  reenforce  one  another,  and  almost  from  the  be- 
ginning, we  must  suppose,  create  complex  states  of  con- 
sciousness, and  form  moods.  War  very  early,  we  say,  must 
contain  all  the  motives  that  ever  enter  into  it.  The  preda- 
tory impulse,  the  love  of  deception,  of  conquest,  the  love 
of  combat  for  its  own  sake,  the  hunting  impulse,  the  motive 


1 6  Till'  Psychology  of  Nations 

of  power,  of  fear  and  an^a-r,  the  impulse  of  display  and  the 
more  primitive  sexual  motives,  the  motives  of  courage  and 
jealousy,  even  a  beginning  of  the  aesthetic  motive,  are  all 
there.  They  become  the  warlike  mood  or  produce  war,  in 
the  sense  in  which  we  now  understand  it,  only  when  the 
intelligence  gives  to  the  relations  between  groups  definite 
intentions  and  directions,  and  out  of  the  many  impulses  that 
lead  to  combat,  a  distinctive  motive  and  mood  are  derived. 
So  we  may  say  with  all  certainty  that  the  making  of  war 
is  not  a  mere  i)erpetuation  of  some  alleged  instinct  of  mur- 
der, surreptitiously  retained  by  man  in  his  rise  from  an  ani- 
mal state,  but  it  is  quite  as  much  a  product  of  his  whole 
social  nature.  It  becomes  established  as  life  grows  more 
complex,  as  specific  desires  increase  in  number.  Man  is 
not,  as  thus  seen  in  these  genetic  views  of  him,  a  self-tamed 
animal.  Me  has  not  arrived  at  a  precarious  and  unstable 
social  condition  out  of  a  primitive  individualism  which  is  the 
essence  of  his  warlike  nature.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has 
not  degenerated  from  some  ideal  pacific  state.  Ages  ago 
he  was  already  divinely  human,  and  possessed  those  capaci- 
ties both  for  cooperation  and  antagonism  out  of  which  war 
is  created. 


CHAPTER  II 

UNCONSCIOUS     MOTIVES,     THE     REVERSION     THEORIES     OF 
WAR,    AND    THE    INTOXICATION    MOTIVE 

There  are  several  interesting  theories  of  the  causes  of  war, 
now  in  the  field,  most  of  them  inspired  by  our  recent  great 
conflict,  all  of  which  (but  no  one  perhaps  completely  or 
quite  justly)  may  be  described  as  based  upon  the  view  that 
war  is  an  outbreak  of,  or  reversion  to,  instincts  and  modes 
of  activity  which  as  primitive  tendencies  remain  in  the  indi- 
vidual or  in  the  social  life  and  which,  from  time  to  time, 
with  or  without  social  cause,  may  break  loose,  so  to  speak, 
and  hurl  man  back  into  savagery.  These  theories  of  war 
show  us,  in  some  cases,  human  character  in  the  form  of 
double  personality,  or  Hken  civilization  to  a  thin  and  inse- 
cure incrustation  upon  the  surface  of  life,  beneath  which  all 
that  is  animal-like  and  barbaric  still  remains  smoldering. 
Some  of  these  theories  we  need  to  review  briefly  here. 

Bertrand  Russell,  in  answer  to  the  question,  "  Why  do 
men  fight?"  which  is  the  title  of  his  book  dealing  with 
the  causes  of  war,  says,  in  substance,  that  men  fight  be- 
cause they  are  controlled  by  instinct  ( and  also  by  authority) , 
rather  than  by  reason.  Men  will  cease  fighting  when  reason 
controls  instinct,  and  men  think  for  themselves  rather  than 
allow  their  thinking  to  be  done  for  them.  This  view  does 
not  explicitly  state  that  war  is  a  reversion,  for  man  may  be 
at  no  point  better  or  more  advanced  than  a  creature  of  in- 
stinct, but  it  lays  the  blame  for  war  upon  the  original  nature 
of  man.  Man  has  instincts  which  presumably  he  has 
brought  with  him  from  his  pre-human  stage,  and  some  of 

17 


1 8  Tlic   PsycJiohxjy   of  Nations 

these  instincts  arc,  on  tlicir  nuHor  side,  the  reactions  of 
ilghliiig. 

Le  l')on  (4-0  speaks  of  a  conscious  and  an  unconscious 
will  in  nations,  and  says  that  the  motives  behind  great  na- 
tional movements  may  be  beneath  all  conscious  intentions, 
and  may  anticipate  tliem.  The  Englishman  in  particular 
lives,  in  a  sense,  a  divided  life,  since  there  is  a  manifest  in- 
consistency between  what  he  really  is  and  what  he  thinks. 
What  these  instincts  are,  Le  Bon  does  not  specify;  presum- 
ably they  may  be  either  better  or  worse  than  the  conscious 
motives. 

Trotter  (82)  and  also  Murray  (90)  consider  war  from  a 
biological  standpoint,  regarding  it  as  a  herd  phenomenon. 
Trotter's  view,  especially  his  interpretation  of  Germany, 
which  we  are  not  to  consider  here,  is  original  and  important. 
War  is  a  result  of  the  action  of  a  herd  instinct,  a  specific 
instinct  which  is  peculiar  in  one  respect,  in  that  it  acts  upon 
other  instincts  but  has  no  definite  motor  reactions  of  its 
own.  War  is  the  result  of  the  action  of  the  herd  instinct 
in  man  upon  the  old  instinct  of  aggression.  At  least  aggres- 
sive war  is.  ]\Ien  in  all  their  social  relations  show  the 
play  of  these  instincts ;  in  war  it  is  the  old  aggressive  instinct, 
the  old  passion  of  the  pack,  that  dominates  them:  and  it  is 
the  ancestral  herd-fears  that  overcome  them  in  their  panics. 
It  is  the  herd  instinct  that  makes  men  in  groups  so  highly 
sensitive  to  the  leader,  whose  relations  to  the  herd  or  pack 
are  always  dependent  upon  their  recognizing  him  as  one  of 
the  group ;  that  is,  as  acting  in  accordance  with  the  desires 
of  the  herd. 

It  is  by  the  union  of  the  herd,  Murray  says,  or  through 
the  herd  instinct,  that  suppressed  unconscious  impulses  are 
given  an  opportunity  to  operate;  when  the  human  herd 
is  excited  by  any  external  stimulus,  the  old  types  of  reaction 
are  brought  into  play.  Curiously,  in  such  times,  leadership 
may  be  assumed  by  eccentric  and  even  abnormal  members 
of  the  group  —  by  those  who  are  governed  by  perverted  in- 


Unconscious  Motives  19 

stincts ;  by  men  who  are  touched  with  the  mania  of  suspicion, 
or  who  even  suffer  from  homicidal  mania. 

The  essential  point  of  these  biological  views  is  that,  when 
the  human  herd  is  subjected  to  any  influences  that  tend  to 
arouse  the  herd  instinct  —  that  is,  to  unite  the  herd  in  any 
common  emotion  or  action,  the  old  instinctive  forms  of  re- 
sponse are  likely  to  be  brought  to  the  front.  Whatever  the 
stimulus,  the  tendency  is  for  the  herd  to  fixate  its  attention 
upon  some  external  object,  which  at  once  is  reacted  to  with 
deep  emotion.  Plainly,  if  this  be  true,  if  herd  instinct  does 
throw  human  society  from  time  to  time  and  from  various 
causes  into  attitudes  of  defense  and  offense  with  the  appro- 
priate emotional  reactions,  and  if  in  such  times  leaders  are 
likely  to  appear,  having  exaggerated  instinctive  tendencies, 
there  is  always  close  at  hand  and  ready  a  mechanism  by 
which  war  can  be  produced,  war  being  precisely  of  the  type 
of  mass  action,  under  strong  emotion,  of  a  group  closely 
united  under  spectacular  leadership,  with  attention  cramped 
upon  some  external  object  hated  or  feared. 

Nicolai  (79),  who  believes  strongly  that  war  is  wholly 
useless,  compares  it  to  the  play  we  turn  to  when  the  actions 
performed  in  the  play  are  no  longer  in  themselves  practical. 
War  is  a  great  debauch,  perhaps  now  the  last  the  race  will 
experience.  War  is  like  wine :  in  it  nations  renew  their 
youth.  It  is  not  the  war  itself,  but  the  mood  it  produces 
that  we  crave,  and  this  mood  is  longed  for  because  in  it  old 
and  sacred  feelings  of  patriotism  are  aroused,  and  these 
feelings  are  themselves  survivals,  something  romantic, 
archaic,  no  longer  needed  in  the  present  stage  of  social  life. 

Novicow  (83)  says  something  very  similar  to  this.  War 
is  a  survival,  like  the  classical  languages,  for  example.  Men 
begin  to  find  beauty  and  glory  in  these  things  only  after 
the  activities  they  represent  are  useless.  The  principle  of 
their  survival  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  that  of  habit.  It 
is  habit  that  keeps  war  alive ;  wars  are  a  concession  to  our 
forebears,  a  following  in  the  footsteps  of  a  dead  past. 


20  The   Psychology   of  S alions 

W'c  .irc  presenting  these  views  in  a  somewhat  loose  and 
illogical  order,  hut  let  us  look  at  still  a  few  more  of  them. 
Patrick  thinks  of  war  as  precisely  a  plunge  into  the  prime- 
val. War  is  a  reaction,  a  regression,  but  still  it  is  some- 
thing more  than  a  mere  slipping  of  the  machinery  of  life. 
It  is  craved;  and  it  is  craved  because  it  offers  relief  from 
the  tension  of  modern  life.  It  is  not  quite  clear  whether  it 
is  because  we  are  tired  and  want  rest  for  our  over-worked 
functions,  or  are  merely  dull  and  need  renewed  life,  but  in 
any  case,  when  the  desire  has  accumulated  enough,  back  we 
fall  into  the  primeval.  Then  all  the  tensions  and  inhibitions 
of  civilized  society  disappear.  Society,  relieved  of  its  cross- 
tensions,  is  resolved  and  organized  into  an  harmonious  and 
freely  acting  whole,  seeking  a  definite  object.  Life  is  sim- 
I)lificd.  and  becomes  again  primitive.  Old  and  vigorous 
movements  take  the  place  of  the  cramped  thinking  of  our 
civilized  life.  All  that  keeps  us  modern  and  evolved  is 
relaxed. 

Naturally  the  Freudians  have  their  own  explanation  of 
war  in  terms  of  subconscious  wishes,  repressed  feelings  and 
instincts.  Freud  (78)  himself  says  that  war  is  a  recrudes- 
cence (and  a  mastery  over  us)  of  a  more  primitive  life 
than  our  own.  The  child  and  the  primitive  man,  as  we 
have  long  known  them  in  the  Freudian  theories,  live  still  in 
us  and  are  indestructible.  We  have  supposed  ourselves  to 
have  overcome  these  primitive  impulses,  but  we  are  far  from 
l^eing  so  civilized  as  we  thought.  The  evil  impulses,  as  we 
call  them,  which  we  supposed  had  at  least  been  transformed 
are  changed  only  in  the  sense  that  they  have  been  influenced 
by  the  erotic  motive,  or  have  been  repressed  by  an  outer 
restraint,  an  educational  factor,  the  demands  of  what  we 
call  civilized  environment.  But  let  us  not  deceive  ourselves ; 
the  old  impulses  are  still  alive :  the  number  of  people  who 
have  l")een  transformed  by  civilization  is  less  than  we 
supposed.  All  society  is  at  heart  barbaric.  Judged  by  our 
unconscious  wishes,  we  are  a  band  of  murderers,  for  the 


Unconscious  Motives  21 

primitive  wish  is  to  kill  all  who  oppose  our  self-interests, 
and  war  is  precisely  a  reversion  to  the  method  of  free  ex- 
pression of  our  desires  in  action.  Society  and  the  authority 
of  government  have  suppressed  these  primitive  reactions  in 
the  individual,  but  instead  of  eliminating  them  altogether 
from  human  nature  (which,  of  course,  no  legislation  can 
do  in  any  case),  government  and  society  as  a  whole  have 
appropriated  all  these  primitive  actions  to  their  own  use. 

Jones  (27)^  the  Freudian,  distinguishes  two  quite  differ- 
ent groups  of  causes  of  war:  the  conscious  causes,  all  ex- 
pressed in  the  feeling  of  patriotism;  and  the  unconscious 
causes,  which  grow  out  of  the  desire  to  release  certain  orig- 
inal passions  —  the  passions  of  cruelty,  destruction,  loot  and 
lust. 

The  central  thought  of  all  these  views,  it  is  plain,  is  that 
war  belongs  to  the  past.  It  is  a  return  to  something  that, 
in  a  significant  sense,  is  the  natural  man  —  is  his  instinctive 
and  unguarded  self.  It  is  also  plainly  implied  in  these  views, 
here  and  there,  that  modern  man,  by  thus  lapsing  into  war, 
is  renewing  his  stock  of  primitive  nature.  The  modem 
man  is  in  unstable  equilibrium,  and  whatever  upsets  that 
equilibrium  sends  him  back  through  the  ages.  MacCurdy 
i;^/'),  having  Jones  and  Freud  in  mind,  protests  against 
these  views  to  this  extent :  he  says  that  the  present  state  of 
man,  rather  than  the  past,  is  the  natural  state,  and  that  at 
least  in  reverting  to  the  primitive  state  man  becomes  un- 
natural. 

The  question  upon  which  our  discussion  of  this  aspect 
of  war  is  going  to  hinge  is  whether,  or  in  what  sense,  the 
activities  and  the  feelings  aroused  in  war  are  reversions. 
Wars,  beyond  a  doubt,  do  involve  to  a  greater  extent  than 
peaceful  life  certain  instinctive  reactions.  Wars  are  so 
impulsive  and  so  persistent  that  we  must  suppose  very  deep 
motives  to  be  engaged  in  war ;  and  the  fact  that  in  all  wars, 
and  on  both  sides  of  every  war,  the  feelings  and  the  reac- 
tions are  fundamentally  the  same,  indicates  that  war  is  some- 


,22  /  /"'  Psychology   of  Nations 

thing  less  dirfcrcntiated  than  the  peaceful  life.  But  that 
war  can  he  explained  in  terms  of  instinct  as  such,  or  that 
war  can  be  disposed  of  as  a  mere  recrudescence  of  old  im- 
pulses and  types  of  conduct  buried  beneath  civilization,  is 
very  much  to  be  doubted.  War,  in  the  first  place,  in  its 
moods  and  passions,  appears  to  be  too  complex,  too  synthetic 
a  process  to  be  quite  what  this  view  would  imply.  It  is  too 
intimately  related  to  everything  that  occurs  and  exists  in 
present  day  society.  It  means  too  much,  concretely  and 
with  reference  to  objects  specifically  desired  for  the  future. 
War  is  related  to  the  past,  but  to  a  great  extent,  it  may  be, 
wars  represent  and  contain  the  present  and  look  toward  the 
future.  The  distinctions  and  differences  in  the  interpreta- 
tion of  war  thus  implied,  and  the  conflicting  understanding 
of  facts  about  society  and  individual  life  cannot  be  very 
clear  at  this  point,  but  that  there  are  involved  fundamental 
problems  of  psychology,  and  perhaps  divergent  ways  of 
thinking  of  history  and  society,  and  of  such  principles  of 
philosophy  at  least  as  are  implicated  in  aesthetics,  and  finally 
of  the  practical  questions  that  are  of  most  interest  in  these 
fields  to-day,  may  begin  to  be  evident. 

There  is  one  aspect  of  war,  or  one  question  about  war, 
that  seems  to  suggest  that  its  problems  are  more  subtle  and 
less  simple  than  the  instinct-theories  imply.  War  has  been, 
and  still  is,  the  great  story  of  the  w-orld,  the  center  of  all 
that  is  dramatic  and  heroic  in  life.  Its  mood  —  and  that  is 
the  essential  thing  in  it,  whatever  else  war  may  have  been, 
and  in  spite  of  all  its  horrors  —  is  ecstatic.  War  produces, 
or  is  produced  by,  states  of  mind  that  affiliate  it  with  all  the 
other  ecstasies  —  of  love,  religion,  intoxication,  art.  We 
may  well  doubt  w^hether  any  explanation  of  w-ar  can  ever 
be  satisfactory  that  does  not  take  this  quality  of  it  fully  into 
account.  One  may  say,  of  course,  that  war  is  ecstatic  just 
because  it  does  satisfy  instincts,  that  the  satisfaction  of  all 
instincts  is  pleasant,  or  that  pleasure  is  the  satisfaction  of 
instincts.     But   there   is   more   in   the   problem   than   that. 


Unconscious  Motives  23 

Love,  the  source  of  the  other  great  romance  of  the  world, 
is  not  exhausted  by  calling  it  a  gratification  of  the  sexual 
instinct,  or  a  primitive  tendency  of  all  organic  life.  It  is 
at  the  other  end  of  the  process  of  development  of  it,  so  to 
speak,  its  place  as  a  present  motive  in  life,  that  it  is  most 
significant,  and  it  is  by  no  means  explained  by  calling  it  a 
product  of  sexuality. 

So  with  war.  Made  out  of  instincts,  it  may  be,  but  it 
is  not  explained  agjJTf  '^nrn  of  ing:tinrtivp_jrparHon.s.      That, 

at  least,  is  our  thesis.  It  is  the  fact  that  war  is  a  great 
ecstasy  of  the  social  life,  that  it  holds  a  high  place  in  art, 
that  history  —  our  selective  way  of  reacting  upon  human 
experience  —  is  in  a  large  measure  the  story  of  war,  that 
its  representations  in  dramatic  forms  are  almost  endless  in 
variety ;  it  is  such  facts  that  give  us  our  clew  to  the  nature 
of  the  problems  of  war,  and  also  to  the  practical  questions 
of  its  future. 

Hirschfeld  (98),  in  a  short  study  of  war,  has  enumerated 
and  briefly  described  some  of  the  forms  in  which  the  ecstasy 
of  war  appears,  or  some  of  the  ecstasies  that  appear  in  war. 
He  speaks  of  the  ecstasy  of  heroism,  and  the  ecstatic  sense 
that  accompanies  the  taking  part  in  great  events,  the  con- 
sciousness of  making  history.  On  a  little  lower  plane  there 
is  the  excitement  of  adventure  and  of  travel  that  gives 
allurement  to  the  idea  of  war  in  the  mind  of  the  soldier,  and 
which  also  glorifies  the  soldier;  the  sensation  hunger;  the 
cupidus  reriim  novanim;  the  ecstasies  of  nature  and  free- 
dom, suggested  by  the  very  term  "  in  the  field."  Add  to 
these  the  ecstasies  of  battle  and  of  victory,  the  Kampfs- 
rausch  and  the  Siegcstriinkcnheit,  and  the  mood  of  war  in 
which  acts  unlawful  for  the  individual  become  not  only 
lawful  but  highly  honorable  when  done  collectively.  There 
is  also  in  the  mood  of  war  the  social  intoxication,  the  feeling 
on  the  part  of  the  individual  of  being  a  part  of  a  body  and 
the  sense  of  being  lost  in  a  greater  whole.  The  lusts  of  con- 
quest, and  of  looting,  and  of  combat,  all  contribute  to  this 


24  '^'/'''   Psycliolof^y   of  iS  aiinns 

spirit  of  war.  And  linally,  .slimming  up  all  the  other  ecsta- 
sies, the  strong  inner  movement  of  the  soul  expressing  itself 
in  strong  external  movements,  and  in  the  sense  of  living 
and  dying  in  the  midst  of  vivid  and  real  life. 

Hirschfeld's  analysis  of  the  ecstasy  of  war  discloses  deep 
and  powerful  motives  in  the  individual  mind  and  the  social 
life.  We  can  find  this  ecstasy  everywhere  in  the  history  of 
war.  sometimes  as  a  national  exaltation,  sometimes  as  a 
more  restricted  phenomenon.  Villard  (54).  speaking  of 
the  first  days  of  the  war,  says  that  in  Germany  then  one 
could  see  "  the  psychology^  of  the  crowd  at  its  noblest 
height."  The  exaltation  of  a  people,  whatever  its  content, 
or  its  purpose,  is  an  awe-inspiring  spectacle.  There  can 
be  no  greater  display  of  the  sources  of  human  power.  In 
this  particular  time  of  exaltation  we  can  see  in  action  reli- 
gious ecstasy,  the  cult  of  valor,  and  the  stirring  of  more 
fundamental  and  more  primitive  feelings.  This  exaltation 
has  its  imaginative  side.  There  is  a  dream  of  empire  in  it. 
There  is  an  exhibition  of  the  forms  of  royalty,  its  display, 
its  color  and  its  dramatic  moments.  There  is  the  spirit  of 
militarism  and  of  great  adventure,  the  excitement  of  chance, 
of  throwing  all  into  the  hands  of  fate,  the  .Tsthetic  and  the 
play  motives  which  are  never  separated  from  the  practical 
passions  in  times  of  great  exaltation. 

This  mood  of  war  differs,  of  course,  at  different  times 
under  different  circumstances.  The  French  people  cer- 
tainly went  into  the  great  war  with  no  such  exaltation. 
We  should  have  to  look  elsewhere  in  French  history  for  the 
ecstatic  war  spirit,  when  the  French  are  moved  by  the  mo- 
tives of  glory  and  prestige,  or  by  the  vanity  and  eroticism 
which  Reuthe  thinks  are  the  essential  qualities  of  the  spirit 
of  France.  But  taking  history  as  a  whole  there  is  no  lack 
of  ecstasy  in  the  spirit  of  war.  We  find  in  this  ecstasy 
exalted  social  feeling,  joy  of  overcoming  the  pain  of  death, 
the  exultation  of  sacrifice,  love  of  display,  feeling  of  trag- 
edy, the  ecstasy  of  exerting  the  utmost  of  power,  love  of 


Unconscious  Motives  25 

danger,  the  gambling  motive,  the  love  of  battle,  love  of  all 
the  dramatic  elements  of  military  life.  These  separate 
ecstasies,  taken  all  together,  make  up  the  exalted  mood  of 
war.     They  represent  war  in  its  most  significant  moments. 

In  this  mood  of  war  instincts  are  exhibited,  but  they 
seem  to  be  in  some  way  transformed,  so  that  the  whole  has 
a  meaning  different  from  the  parts.  The  mood  of  war  is 
not  a  mere  effect,  a  reaction  to  events.  It  is  a  longing  — 
plastic  and  indefinite  it  may  be  —  but  looking  toward  the 
future.  It  is  a  craving,  not  for  the  release  of  definite  in- 
stincts, but  is  rather  a  force  or  a  desire  which,  however  mis- 
guided the  expression  of  this  mood  or  this  energy  may  be, 
is  the  essence  of  what  individuals  and  society  to-day  are. 
We  may  find  in  this  mood,  upon  superficial  examination, 
mere  emotions,  but  in  a  final  and  deeper  analysis,  we  may 
suppose,  its  content  and  its  meaning  will  be  found  to  be 
specific  —  purposes  which  constitute  what  is  deepest  and 
most  continuous  in  the  individual  and  in  society,  but  which 
at  the  same  time  give  to  this  mood  its  generality  of  direction 
and  of  form. 

It  is  the  war-mood,  then,  that  must  be  explained,  if  we 
wish  to  understand  the  motives  and  causes  of  war.  And 
this  war  mood,  so  it  appears,  is  related  to  all  the  other  great 
ecstasies  —  of  art,  religion,  intoxication,  love.  It  is,  of 
course,  then,  a  psychological  problem,  and  one  having  many 
radiations  and  deep  roots.  The  view  that  we  are  going  to 
take  is  that  in  the  mood  of  war  we  have  to  do  essentially 
with  what,  relying  upon  previous  studies  of  the  principles 
of  art  and  of  the  motives  that  are  at  work  in  society  that 
produce  the  phenomena  of  intemperance  we  may  call  the 
intoxication  motive.  That  this  intoxication  motive  is  a 
plastic  force,  a  mood  containing  desires  and  impulses  that 
may  be  satisfied  in  a  variety  of  ways,  since  as  a  sum  of  de- 
sires it  is  no  longer  specific  and  instinctive,  is  the  main  im- 
plication of  this  view.  It  is  this  generic  quality  and  com- 
positeness  of  the  purpose  of  the  individual  and  of  the  spirit 


26  I'lic  Psycliolc^y  of  Nations 

of  society  tliat  obscures  tlie  nieanin,!:^  of  history  and  often 
makes  individual  lives  so  enigmatical,  and  which  also  makes 
these  purposes  of  individuals  and  nations  so  persistent, 
sometimes  so  terribly   forceful  and   insatiable. 

As  C(Mitrasted  with  instincts,  the  motive  of  intoxication 
we  say,  is  plastic,  and  its  object  —  and  this  is  one  of  its 
most  significant  characteristics  —  is  to  produce  exalted 
states  of  consciousness  mainly  for  their  own  sake.  At  least 
this  experience  of  exaltation  is  the  main  or  central  thing 
sought.  It  is  a  tendency  to  seek  exalted  states,  but  at  the 
same  time,  we  should  say,  specific  instincts  gain  some  kind 
of  satisfaction,  although  not  at  all  necessarily  by  the  per- 
formance of  the  external  movements  appropriate  to  them. 
They  may  obtain  a  certain  vicarious  satisfaction.  The 
mood  gives  conduct  a  general  direction,  it  provides  a  mo- 
tive and  the  power,  it  is  the  source  of  interest  and  of  de- 
sire, but  its  objects  may  be  indefinite  and  variable. 

Some  general  aspects  of  the  moods  that  we  have  to  con- 
sider have  already  come  to  light,  and  these  may  prove  to  be 
valuable  clews  to  a  psvchological  analysis  of  their  content. 
There  is  the  ecstatic  state,  and  the  craving  to  experience  it, 
the  love  of  excitement,  the  desire  to  have  a  sense  of  reality, 
the  impulse  to  seek  an  abundant  life,  the  love  of  power  and 
of  the  feeling  of  power.  These  are  all  related,  and  at  least 
they  have  something  in  common,  but  it  is  the  last  mentioned, 
the  motive  of  power,  that  seems  to  be  the  most  definite  and 
to  have  the  clearest  biological  meaning  and  implications. 
Indeed  this  motive  of  power  (and  we  must  here  again  de- 
pend upon  previous  studies  of  the  sesthetic  motives  and 
other  aspects  of  ecstasy),  appears  to  be  fundamental  in  art, 
in  religion,  and  in  history.  It  is  a  concept  that  gives  us  a 
vantage  ground  for  the  interpretation  of  some  of  the  most 
significant  parts  of  life.  The  idea  of  power  and  the  craving 
for  power  as  a  general  motive,  but  also  containing  and  ex- 
ploiting specific  purposes  and  desires,  runs  through  all  the 
history  of  art  and  religion  and  also  through  history  itself. 


Unconscious  Motives  27 

Religion  is  based  upon  the  desire  to  exert  and  to  feel  power, 
and  it  is  the  manifest  and  indeed  the  expressly  acknowl- 
edged purpose  of  all  primitive  art,  and  is  concealed  and 
implied  in  all  later  art.  Art  is  practical,  an  effort  to  realize 
a  sense  of  power,  to  become  a  god  (just  as  in  his  motive  of 
play  the  child  desires  more  than  anything  else  to  realize 
himself  as  a  man),  to  influence  people,  or  objects,  or  gods, 
to  exert  magic  somewhere  in  the  world.  In  the  feeling  of 
power  which  the  ecstatic  state  produces,  the  belief  in  the 
power  of  art  is  established,  and  at  the  same  time  deep  and 
hidden  impulses  are  exploited.  On  the  feeling  side,  and 
indeed  in  every  way,  this  ought  to  explain  how  art,  religion, 
and  all  states  of  intoxication  have  a  common  element,  if 
they  are  not  primitively  the  same. 

A  psychology  of  the  war  moods  must  undertake  to  trace 
the  history  of  the  motive  of  power,  considering  its  begin- 
nings as  the  desire  and  sense  of  satisfaction  connected  with 
the  performance  of  definite  instinctive  acts,  and  with  their 
physiological  results,  with  the  exertion  of  power  and  the 
production  of  effects  upon  objects.  It  is  in  the  performance 
of  instinctive  acts,  in  which  superiority  is  inborn,  that  ani- 
mal and  man  obtain  their  original  sense  of  power  or  supe- 
riority. As  capacities  are  differentiated  and  multiplied,  the 
experiences  of  achievement  generate  a  mood  and  a  more 
general  impulse,  a  desire  to  exert  power  for  its  own  sake. 
The  sensory  or  organic  elements  tend  to  predominate  in  this 
generalized  motive,  simply  because  the  specific  actions  in 
which  the  sense  of  power  is  obtained  cannot  so  readily,  or 
cannot  at  all,  be  generalized.  Such  an  organization  of  ac- 
tions and  states  in  consciousness  demands  nothing  new  in 
principle,  implies  nothing  different  from  that  found  on  the 
intellectual  side  when  concepts  are  formed  from  concrete 
experiences.  The  associative  processes  and  the  selective 
principles  everyw'here  present  in  mental  action  are  all  that 
are  necessary  to  be  assumed  here.  We  may  take  advantage, 
however,  of  the  special  investigations  of  affective  logic,  and 


2  8  J' he  Psychology   of  j\  a  lions 

the  like,  as  j:]:ivi!i^  evidence  in  support  of  such  a  conception 
of  the  formation  of  moods  as  is  here  being  worked  out. 
W'c  are  hkely  to  make  the  rnistake  of  thinking  the  specific 
instincts  and  the  impulses  and  pleasure  states  that  we  find 
in  human  experiences,  such  as  ecstasy,  as  the  whole  of  these 
experiences,  and  to  overlook  the  constant  process  of  gen- 
eralization that  goes  on  in  all  the  mental  activity  of  the  in- 
dividual. For  example,  we  may  think  of  various  plays 
which  involve  instinctive  actions  as  being  wholly  explained 
by,  or  to  be  made  up  of,  these  instinctive  acts  alone,  whereas 
in  most  plays  that  take  the  form  of  excitement,  abandon  or 
ccstasv.  there  are  being  employed  processes  which  are  gen- 
eral in  the  sense  of  reon forcing  all  the  specific  acts  alike,  and 
are  yet  specific  in  the  sense  that  they  are  themselves,  or  have 
been,  practical :  that  is,  they  are  in  reality  processes  that 
belong  to  the  fundamental  strata  of  consciousness  —  to  the 
nutritional  and  reproductive  tendencies.  Out  of  these  tend- 
encies the  more  complex  processes  of  which  we  speak  are 
made,  but  they  are  no  mere  repetition  of  old  forms.  That, 
at  least,  is  the  way  these  ecstatic  moods  appear  from  our 
point  of  view. 

It  is  precisely  because  ecstatic  moods  are  presumably  thus 
general  and  -composite,  and  involve  fundamental  instincts 
(but  in  such  a  way  that  they  are  transformed,  and  no  longer 
present  in  body,  so  to  speak,  but  are  represented  by  their 
organic  processes  rather  than  appearing  as  specific  concate- 
nated chains  of  motor  events),  with  their  purposes  changed 
and  their  whole  meaning  determined  by  the  present  states 
to  which  they  belong,  that  we  should  be  inclined  to  say  that 
to  explain  any  great  and  powerful  movement  in  the  lives 
of  individuals  or  nations  as  merely  reversions  is  very  in- 
adequate and  indeed  wrong.  They  are  emotional  forces 
that  are  at  work,  composite  feelings  and  moods  rather  than 
instincts.  They  are  aspects  of  the  continuity  of  the  life 
of  the  present,  rather  than  of  the  fragmentary  past  that 
lives  in  the  individual.     These  forces  are  plastic,  complex 


Unconscious  Motives  29 

and  organized,  rather  than  haphazard  and  suppressed. 
They  are  directive,  creative,  but  incidentally  they  make 
amends  for  and  satisfy  and  exploit  the  past. 

If  these  principles  be  valid,  their  application  to  the  psy- 
chology of  war  seems  plain.  The  central  purpose  or  motive 
of  war  to-day  is  a  craving  for  the  realization  of  the  sense  of 
power.  This  is  the  subjective  side  of  it,  the  unconscious, 
instinctive,  mystical  motive  so  often  observed.  The  ques- 
tion of  the  actual  power  exerted  or  displayed  is  not  the  most 
essential  point  of  this  war  mood.  It  is  the  manipulation 
and  the  satisfaction  of  inner  factors  that  make  the  most 
significant  aspect  of  these  moods.  History,  we  should 
hold,  is  in  great  part  an  unfoldment  of  this  motive.  Na- 
tions crave,  as  collective  or  group  consciousness,  the  feeling 
of  power.  Just  as  we  say  the  child  in  his  plays  wants  to 
be  a  man,  and  the  individual  in  his  art  feels  himself  a  god, 
so  nations  in  their  wars  and  in  their  thoughts  of  wars,  feel 
themselves  more  real,  realize  themselves  as  world  powers, 
and  as  supreme  and  divine.  To  be  first  and  all  is  indeed 
the  purpose  that  runs  in  these  moods,  and  this  we  believe 
is  true,  in  its  way,  of  the  most  insignificant  and  hopelessly 
decrepit  of  peoples.  This  must  be  taken  account  of  in  the 
interpretation  of  history,  and  in  that  larger  pedagogy,  the 
pedagogy  of  nations  to  which  we  just  now  look  forward. 

These  moods  which,  slumbering,  become  the  ecstasies  of 
war  are  vague,  even  secretive.  They  contain  aggressive 
thoughts  that  are  disavowed,  vanities  that  are  concealed, 
fears  that  present  a  quiet  front.  But  we  must  not  think 
that  the  war  mood  always  intends  war.  Nations  have  their 
subjective  lives  and  inner  history,  and  their  vicarious  satis- 
factions. A  nation  in  arms  already  feels  itself  victor  by 
reason  of  its  sense  of  power.  Otherwise  few  wars  would 
be  entered  upon.  Dreams  and  talk  of  war  may  incite  to 
war,  but  they  may  also  satisfy  the  desire  and  need  of  war. 
There  is  a  certain  narcissism  in  nations,  and  this  is  due  pre- 
cisely to  the  fact  that  patriotism  as  a  feeling  and  impulse 


30  The   Psycholoyy   of  Nations 

necessarily  lacks  in  the  group  consciousness  the  mechanisms 
for  externalization,  except  indeed  in  war.  War  is  an  es- 
cape, for  a  people,  from  a  kind  of  subjectivism,  from  the 
evils  of  a  self-love  to  perhaps  the  greater  evils  of  self- 
assertion. 

Nations  in  war,  and  even  in  the  thought  of  war  reali;^e 
their  own  potentiality,  take  account  of  stock  of  their  pow- 
ers, and  create  an  ideal,  romantic  and  dream  world.  They 
make  castles-in-air,  and  these  castles-in-air  always  take  the 
form  of  empires.  War,  precisely  like  art,  is  at  first  more 
and  then  less  practical,  and  sought  for  practical  purposes. 
More  and  more  there  is  a  craving  for  glory,  for  prestige, 
for  subjective  satisfaction  and  symbols  of  power.  Nations 
take  lands  that  they  cannot  use  for  any  good  purpose, 
inflict  indemnities  that  may  ruin  themselves  rather  than 
their  enemies,  exploit  economic  relations  that  are  dangerous 
to  the  nations'  very  existence.  It  is  power  that  they  seek, 
and  it  is  power  they  thus  create,  but  it  is  often  different  in 
form  and  in  value  from  what  the  conscious  purpose  holds. 
They  are  really  seeking  general  and  subjective  states  in  part 
for  their  own  sake.  Psychologically  it  is  all  one  and  the 
same  whether  we  realize  this  power  by  actually  killing  an 
enemy,  or  believe  we  overpower  him  by  the  performance  of 
some  mystic  and  ecstatic  act,  or  in  some  more  modern  way 
become  confident  in  our  own  power  and  prestige.  National 
life,  in  order  to  maintain  its  integrity,  must  move  upon  a 
plane  of  intense  feeling.  It  must  have  objectives,  but  these 
objectives  are  not  necessarily  of  value  in  themselves.  This 
is  the  delusion  and  enigma  of  history.  Peoples  enact 
dramas  in  their  own  subjective  lives,  and  these  things  they 
do  have  reference  to  the  desires  for  inner  experiences.  We 
may  say  that  nations,  like  individuals,  crave  for  luxuries  of 
the  emotional  life,  but  to  think  of  these  experiences  as 
merely  static  pleasure-states,  after  the  fashion  of  a  certain 
conception  of  the  emotions,  would  be  wholly  to  misunder- 
stand this  view   which  we   have   been   trying  to  present. 


Unconscious  Motives  31 

These  subjective  states  are  full  of  meaning  and  of  purpose. 
They  are  not  reactions,  but  rather,  in  so  far  as  these  col- 
lective lives  are  normal  and  progressive,  these  moods  and 
ecstasies  are  more  of  the  nature  of  crucibles  in  which  old 
reactions  and  feelings  are  fused,  given  new  direction,  new 
forms  and  in  a  certain  way  a  new  nature.  History  is  made 
in  these  moods  of  war.  They  are  subjective  forces,  but 
they  are  also  objectively  creative. 

What  is  it  that  nations  really  desire?  What  is  it,  we 
might  ask,  that  an  individual  desires?  On  the  side  of  ex- 
perience it  is  an  abundant  life,  a  life  full  of  the  feeling  of 
power.  This  craving  for  an  abundant  life  is  a  craving  for 
the  satisfaction  of  many  desires,  instinctive  and  acquired, 
but  it  is  also  a  craving,  in  some  sense,  for  more  desire.  It 
is  not  merely  to  satisfy  desires,  but  to  realize  more  life  by 
creating  more  desires  that  experience  is  sought.  That  is 
the  philosophy  of  the  life 'Of  the  superior  individual;  it  is 
also  the  principle  of  the  larger  individual  —  the  nation. 
The  creation  and  the  satisfaction  of  desire  are  the  motives 
of  art.     They  are  also  the  motives  of  life. 

In  history,  it  is  the  intangible  value,  the  unconscious  pur- 
pose, the  desire  to  realize  empires  that  are  only  in  part  ma- 
terial, the  desire  for  glory  and  prestige  and  opportunity  that 
seem  to  be  the  guiding  motives.  There  is  a  general  and 
plastic  purpose  beneath  all  the  special  tendencies  and  desires 
directing  interest  toward  specific  objects,  and  also  some- 
times making  the  objectives  sought  indefinite  and  the  pur- 
poses in  seeking  them  seem  mystical.  It  is  the  desire  to  be 
a  power  in  the  world,  or  rather  to  have  power  over  the 
world,  and  to  experience  all  the  inner  exaltation  these  de- 
sires inspire  that  appears  to  be  the  creative  force  in  history. 
These  things,  moreover,  are  not  the  desires  and  impulses  of 
the  geniuses  among  nations  alone ;  they  seem  to  be  inherent 
in  all  national  life. 

Study  of  the  intoxication  motive  in  the  individual  and 
as  a  social  phenomenon  shows  that  it  is  not  an  expression 


32  7'//<-    l\syih(>l()yy   of  jXalions 

of  the  need  of  relaxation  from  strain,  or  a  reversion,  or 
something  that  occurs  by  a  mere  release  of  primitive  in- 
stincts. It  occurs  in  the  j]^reat  periods  of  history,  and  in 
the  strong  years  of  the  life  of  the  individual,  rather  than  in 
times  of  weakness.  It  is  always  a  spirit  of  the  times  rather 
than  of  some  past  reverted  to.  It  may  occur  in  times  of 
disorder  or  of  repression,  but  it  is  an  experience  in  which 
energy  and  power  are  expressed.  We  see  it  most  dominant 
when  life  is  most  abundant,  when  there  is  also  a  craving  to 
make  life  more  abundant  still,  when  there  is  already  power 
and  more  power  is  longed  for.  It  is  true,  however,  that 
two  opposite  conditions  may  produce  the  strongest  mani- 
festations of  this  intoxication  motive.  Something  analo- 
gous to  these  conditions  we  see  in  the  lives  of  individuals,  in 
the  phenomena  of  intemperance,  which  belong  in  general  to 
the  virile  years.  Social  ecstasy  is  produced  in  times  when 
there  is  already  a  free  expression  of  energy,  but  also  under 
conditions  that  cause  pain,  disorder  and  repression.  Under 
the  latter  conditions  we  think  oi  it  not  as  desire  for  relief 
from  strain  but  desire  to  be  released  from  obstacles  that  im- 
pede the  expression  of  the  growth  force.  If  all  this  be 
true,  we  see  war  in  a  somewhat  different  light  from  that  in 
which  it  is  ordinarily  regarded.  It  is  not,  in  its  typical 
forms,  a  reversion  to  barbarism,  and  it  is  not  a  political 
mishap.  It  is  rather  a  readjustment  of  tendencies  or  forces 
and  an  expression  and  product  of  the  living  and  progressive 
forces  of  society  —  not  necessarily  a  good  or  even  a  normal 
expression  of  them,  but  an  awakening  and  a  realization  of 
such  desires  as  are  to-day  at  work  in  everything  we  do  — 
forces  which  for  the  moment  are  raised  to  a  white  heat,  so 
to  speak,  in  which  purposes  are  for  the  moment  fused  and 
it  may  be  confused  —  but  still  an  expression  of  what,  for 
better  or  for  worse  we  arc,  not  of  what  in  some  remote  past 
time  we  zccrc.  We  cannot  explain  war  or  excuse  ourselves 
for  waging  wars  by  saying  that  we  lapse  for  a  time  into 
barbarism,  but  on  the  other  hand  the  heroism  we  suddenly 


Unconscious  Motives  33 

find  in  ourselves  as  nations  or  as  individuals,  is  not  so  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  ordinary  life  as  we  may  have  supposed. 
We  have  perhaps  no  right  to  say  that  all  war  is  thus  to  be 
characterized.  War  is  a  very  complex  and  a  widely  vari- 
able phenomenon,  but  this  is  the  explanation  of  that  aspect 
of  the  motive  of  history  which  in  general  produces  war. 
War  may  have  its  abnormalities,  if  we  may  speak  of  a  worse 
in  that  which  is  already  bad  enough.  War  may  satisfy  the 
desperate  mind ;  it  may,  on  occasion,  be  a  narcotic  to  cover 
up  worse  pain,  or  an  evidence  of  decadence ;  or  even  be  what 
those  who  think  of  it  as  a  reversion  believe.  But  all  these 
aspects  of  war,  if  our  view  be  sound,  are  the  eccentricities 
rather  than  the  essence  of  war. 

The  conditions  preceding  our  recent  great  war  will  doubt- 
less in  the  'course  of  future  historical  and  sociological  re- 
search, be  minutely  scrutinized,  in  the  effort  to  find  the 
causes  of  the  war  —  factors  deeper  than  and  different  from 
the  political  and  economic  causes  and  the  personal  intrigues 
that  are  now  most  emphasized.  If  we  believe  that  the  war 
was  made  in  Germany  rather  than  elsewhere,  we  might  look 
there,  especially  for  these  psychological  factors  of  war  — 
for  our  intoxication  motives  and  unconscious  impulses  and 
our  causes  of  reversion,  but  we  should  probably  not  find 
anything  different  in  kind  there  from  what  we  should  dis- 
cover in  other  great  countries.  Those  who  have  seen  in 
modern  industrialism  dangers  of  coming  disaster,  or  who 
now  look  back  upon  it  as  a  genuine  cause  of  the  war  were 
probably  not  mistaken.  Industrialism  has  been  producing 
rapidly,  and  in  an  intense  form,  what  we  may  call  the  mood 
of  the  city,  and  this  mood  of  the  city  contains  all  the  con- 
ditions and  all  the  emotions  that  tend  to  bring  to  the  surface 
the  deep-lying  motives  of  the  social  life  that  we  are  trying 
to  point  out.  There  are  both  the  joy  of  the  abundant  life, 
the  craving  for  new  experiences,  and  the  sense  of  reality, 
and  also  the  disorganization  of  interests  and  motives,  the 
stress  and  fatigue  and  monotony  which  prepare  the  mind 


34  J  1'^'  Psychology  of  Nations 

for  culiiiiiiation  in  dramatic  events.  There  is,  in  a  word, 
a  deep  stirring'  of  all  the  forces  that  make  for  progress  and 
expansion,  and  also  conditions  that  disorganize  the  indi- 
vidual and  the  social  life.  Lamprecht  (59)  of  all  German 
writers  seems  to  have  appreciated  this.  He  has  written  be- 
fore the  war,  describing  a  condition  in  Germany  which  he 
says  began  in  the  seventies  of  the  preceding  century  —  a 
change  of  German  life  in  which  there  is  a  great  increase  of 
the  activities  of  the  cities,  with  haste  and  anxiety,  unscrupu- 
lous individual  energy,  general  nervous  excitement,  a  condi- 
tion of  neuro-muscular  weakness  (and  he  might  have  added 
as  another  sign,  over-stimulation  of  the  mind  by  a  great 
flood  of  morbid  literature). 

In  Lamprecht's  opinion,  this  period  of  excitement,  this 
strong  tendency  to  the  enjoyment  of  excitation  in  general, 
is  a  form  of  socio-psychic  dissociation.  It  is  a  period  of 
relative  disorganization,  when  the  individual  is  subjected 
to  a  great  variety  of  new  experiences,  when  outside  influ- 
ences prevail  over  the  inner  impulses  of  the  individual,  in 
which  the  individual  is  unsettled  and  there  is  a  tendency  to- 
ward pessimism  and  melancholia.  Lamprecht  thinks  of 
this  state  as  something  transitory,  and  already  as  he  writes 
(in  1905)  nearing  an  end.  This  state  of  continuous  excite- 
ment, with  its  shallow  pathos  of  the  individual  and  its  con- 
stant and  superficial  happiness,  its  worship  of  the  novel  and 
the  extraordinary,  the  suggestibility  and  the  receptivity  of 
the  masses,  automatic  action  of  the  will  and  the  emotions  — 
all  this  Lamprecht  thinks  will  pass.  It  is  a  stage  in  the  proc- 
ess of  a  new  formation.  The  very  elements  of  dissociation 
are  positively  charged,  so  to  speak,  and  contain  creative 
power.  A  new  system  of  morals,  a  new  philosophy,  new- 
religion  begin  to  emerge.  There  is  a  strong  efTort  to  reach 
a  new  dominant. 

This  is  Lamprecht's  psychological  interpretation  of  re- 
cent German  history.  This  view  and  the  various  aspects 
of  the  condition  which  Lamprecht  describes,  the  relation  of 


Unconscious  Motives  35 

the  materialism,  the  pessimism  and  the  melancholy  of  such 
a  time  to  the  optimistic  trends  and  the  deep  forward  move- 
ment need  a  closer  study  than  we  can  here  give  it,  but  may 
we  not  see  in  it  the  truth  that  such  conditions  as  these  are 
prone  to  cause  wars  as  a  phase  of  the  process  of  the  inner 
adjustment  of  national  life?  Wars  occur  as  forms  of  ex- 
pression  of  those  impulses  whic*ti  appeaiiii  the  individual 
life'in  times  of  rapidJ^rowth_and]Te^^  as 

outbreaks  of  mfemperance  and  passion  —  a  culmination, 
according  to  our  view  and  terminology,  of  the  intoxication 
motive.  Industrialism  itself  is  perhaps  but  one  manifesta- 
tion of  deep  impulses  in  the  life  of  nations;  it  is  at  once  an 
intensification  and  a  formalizing  of  life.  Hence  perhaps  its 
paradoxical  appearance  as  an  increase  of  both  joy  and  dis- 
tress.    There  is  nothing  in  it  that  is  wholly  satisfying. 

Germany,  says  Lamprecht,  was  seeking,  in  this  transition 
period,  a  new  dominant,  a  new  religion  and  a  new  philoso- 
phy. But  Germany,  let  us  help  Lamprecht  to  say,  since  he 
does  not  himself  draw  this  conclusion,  has  failed  to  emerge 
upon  the  level  of  an  exalted  ecstasy,  failed  to  produce  the 
philosophical,  the  moral  and  religious  fruit  of  its  new  im- 
pulses, failed,  in  a  zvord,  to  find  its  dominant  on  a  high  level, 
precisely  as  often  the  promising  individual  fails  and  has  ex- 
pressed his  truly  great  nature  in  low  forms  of  activity.  So 
Germany,  and  the  world,  dominated  by  industrialism  and  all 
the  desires  and  forces  that  the  rapid  development  of  indus- 
trialism has  brought  into  action,  has  come  to  a  culmination 
of  its  efiforts  in  an  outbreak  unparalleled  in  history.  On 
the  side  of  Germany  we  see  a  nation  governed  by  a  mood 
of  war  in  which  the  chief  modes  of  thought  and  action  rep- 
resented are  the  pseudo-mystical  and  religious  longings  for 
new  empire,  romantic  love  of  the  past,  militarism,  and  all 
the  motives  of  the  new  industrialism  and  the  new  science. 
The  best  motives  of  the  old  feudalism  and  the  new  indus- 
trialism tried  to  unite,  as  we  might  say,  into  a  new  and  very 
great  civilization  —  and  they  failed.     What  has  happened 


36  The   Piycholoyy   of  Nations 

is  that  the  material  powers  and  the  cynical  moods  of  indus- 
trialism have  combined  with  the  mystical  elements  and  the 
superficial  .estheticism  of  the  old  feudalistic  regime  to  create 
a  philosophy  of  life,  a  temporary  stage  it  may  be,  in  which 
force  and  fanaticism  and  the  uncompromising  ideals  of  na- 
tional honor  and  brute  strength  prevail  over  those  of  a 
wider  efllciency  and  a  broader  devotion  whicli  might  have 
inspired  a  greater  and  a  better  Germany.  Convention  and 
political  motives  have  done  the  rest. 

Bergson  says  that  in  the  war  spirit  of  Germany  one  sees 
matter  arrayed  against  spirit.  One  can  see  some  truth  in 
this,  but  spirit  and  matter  are  not  two  armies  pitted  against 
one  another.  In  Germany,  as  we  may  believe  elsewhere,  the 
spiritual  in  the  sense  of  creative  forces  in  the  subconscious 
life  of  nations  does  try  to  organize  the  practical  life,  with 
its  routine  and  convention,  into  an  onward  moving  prog- 
ress, in  which,  necessarily,  exalted  moods  (if  energies  are 
to  get  themselves  expressed  at  all)  must  prevail,  and  must 
be  full  of  possibilities,  both  of  great  good  and  of  great  evil. 
Life  in  its  collective  form  will  be  abundant,  because  that 
is  its  most  fundamental  craving.  It  may  be  terribly  and 
destructively  abundant,  or  benignly,  but  progress,  as  his- 
tory seems  to  show  us  —  if  reason  and  psychology  do  not 
—  can  never  be  orderly  and  complacent.  Order  and  con- 
vention must  break  down  to  introduce  new  spirit  and  new 
desires  which  are  continually  being  created  in  the  inner  life. 
These  forces  may  be  old  instincts  which  are  continually  up- 
setting civilized  life,  but  the  desires  they  produce  and  the 
mechanism  of  their  operation  seem  to  be  different  from 
what  our  customary  psychology  and  interpretation  of  his- 
tory imply.  Just  as  these  moods  make  the  child  play  and 
be  wholly  unpractical  when  one  might  suppose  he  could  be 
useful,  and  the  individual,  as  man,  live  a  certain  life  of  ad- 
venture rather  than  in  security  and  routine,  so  this  spirit 
or  mood  that  dominates  nations  makes  them  imperialistic, 
and  causes  them  to  crave  those  things  which  lead  toward 


Unconscious  Motives  37 

war,  if  they  do  not  crave  war  itself,  when  we  might  think 
they  ought  to  be  most  concerned  about  the  economic  wel- 
fare of  the  world  as  a  whole. 

Whether  this  spirit  of  nations  be  an  evil  to  be  overcome, 
and  to  suppress,  or  an  untamed  force  to  direct  to  right  ob- 
jects, or  a  good  that  by  some  logic  of  events  which  we  do 
not  understand  works  out  the  right  course  of  history,  we 
do  not  know.  But  here,  of  course,  we  come  to  problems, 
which,  if  they  are  problems  at  all  in  any  real  sense,  are 
philosophical  and  ultimate. 


CHAPTER  III 

INSTINCTS  IN  war:  FEAR,  HATE,  THE  AGGRESSIVE  IMPULSE. 
MOTIVES  OF  COMBAT  AND  DESTRUCTION,  THE  SOCIAL 
INSTINCT 

We  have  found  that  the  essential,  and  we  might  say,  pri- 
mary psychological  datum  of  war  is  a  war-mood,  that  the 
central  motive  of  this  war-mood  is  a  general  impulse  which 
we  called  the  intoxication  motive,  and  that  this  intoxication 
motive,  considered  generically,  and  in  regard  to  its  specific 
meaning  is  a  craving  for  power  and  for  the  experience  of 
exerting  and  feeling  power.  The  war-mood  is  not  a  mere 
collection  of  instincts ;  it  is  a  new  product,  in  which  instincts 
and  emotions  have  a  place.  There  are  several  reasons, 
practical  and  theoretical,  for  regarding  it  as  a  highly  im- 
portant problem  to  discover  what  the  actual  content  of  this 
war-mood  is.  This  mood,  being  one  of  the  greatest  of  all 
powers  of  good  and  evil,  and  one  most  in  need  to-day  of 
education  and  re-direction,  it  may  be,  it  will  probably  be 
controlled,  if  ever,  upon  the  basis  of  a  knowledge  of  what 
it  means  as  a  whole,  and  of  what  its  elements  are  which  ap- 
pear in  the  form  of  fused,  transformed,  truncated,  general- 
ized and  aborted  instincts  and  feelings. 

Primitive  Tendencies 

First  of  all.  the  highly  complex  emotions,  moods  and 
impulses  we  find  in  the  social  consciousness  as  expressed 
in  the  moods  of  war,  do  contain  and  revert  to  instincts  and 
feelings  that  are  part  of  the  primitive  equipment  of  organic 
life,  and  are  usually  identified  as  nutritional  and  reproduc- 

38 


Instincts  in  War  39 

tive  tendencies.  The  part  played  in  war  by  the  migratory 
impulse,  the  predatory  impulse  and  the  like  indicates  the 
connection  of  the  war-moods  with  the  nutritional  tendencies  ; 
and  the  display  elements  found  already  in  primitive  war- 
fare and,  as  we  have  already  inferred,  in  all  forms  of 
ecstasy  contain  factors  that  are  at  bottom  sexual.  We  no 
longer  eat  our  enemies,  and  we  do  not  bring  home  their 
heads  to  our  women  or  practice  wife  stealing,  but  it  is 
easy  to  observe  the  remnants  of  these  old  feelings  and  in- 
stincts in  war.  Trophy  hunting  continues,  and  we  may 
suppose  that  even  the  moods  of  primitive  cannibalism  have 
not  entirely  been  lost.  The  ready  habituation  of  soldiers 
to  some  of  the  scenes  of  the  recent  war  seems  to  suggest 
a  lingering  trace  of  this  motive,  while  the  looting  impulse 
which  plays  such  a  part  in  war,  and  some  aspects  of  the  de- 
structive impulses  and  the  like  that  are  displayed,  are,  wuth 
a  high  degree  of  probability,  closely  related  to  instincts  that 
were  once  specifically  practical  and  belong  to  the  funda- 
mental nutritional  motives.  Nor  is  it  a  mere  euphemism, 
perhaps,  when  we  speak  of  the  greed  of  nations,  nor  solely 
analogical  when  we  compare  the  ambitions  of  peoples  with 
certain  adolescent  phenomena  in  the  life  of  the  individual. 
Plainly  the  social  consciousness,  as  a  collective  mood,  does 
not  command  the  specific  reactions  connected  with  sexuality 
and  nutrition,  but  we  may  observe  the  presence  of  these 
instinctive  reactions  in  two  phases  of  war.  We  see  them 
in  the  tendencies  of  various  individuals,  who  under  the 
excitements  of  the  war  moods  are  controlled  more  or  less 
specifically  by  instinctive  reactions.  We  see  also  frag- 
ments of  instinctive  reactions  and  primitive  feeling  woven 
into  the  total  states  of  social  consciousness.  The  hunger 
motive  may,  and  probably  does,  supply  some  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  fear  and  the  aggressive  moods  of  war;  just 
as  the  sex  motive  provides  some  of  the  elements  of  anger 
and  hatred,  and  some  of  the  qualities  of  combat  itself. 


40  The   l\syihulugy   of  i\  ations 

The  Aggressive  Instinct 

A  natural,  but  somewhat  naive  explanation  of  war  is 
that  it  is  a  survival  of  the  aggressive  instinct  that  man  has 
brought  up  with  him  from  animal  life,  in  which  he  orig- 
inated, and  that  very  early  in  his  career  was  directed  to- 
ward his  fellow  men.  This  aggressive  instinct  as  expressed 
in  the  modern  spirit  of  war  does  not  need,  on  this  view, 
to  be  thought  of  as  something  reverted  to.  It  is  still  ac- 
tive throughout  the  social  life.  Both  the  purposes  and  the 
methods  of  it  remain.  We  have  referred  to  one  aspect 
of  this  before,  and  to  the  objection  that  can  be  made  that 
the  ancestry  of  man  does  not  show  us  such  an  aggressive 
instinct.  The  nearest  relatives  of  man  are  mainly  social 
rather  than  aggressive  in  their  habits.  Even  the  habits  of 
hunting  other  animals  and  eating  animal  food  appear  to 
have  been  acquired  during  man's  career  as  man.  and  he 
never  has  had  the  aggressive  temper  that  some  creatures 
have  had.  Man  has  acquired  a  very  effectual  and  very  com- 
plex adjustment  to  his  environment  by  piecing  together,  so 
to  speak,  fragments  of  his  original  conduct,  and  developing 
mechanisms  that  have  been  produced  in  the  race  as  a  means 
of  satisfying  fundamental  needs.  !Modes  of  reaction  pro- 
duced originally  for  one  purpose  have  apparently  been 
utilized  by  other  motives.  Of  course  the  more  specific  ani- 
mal instincts  are  not  wholly  lacking,  but  it  is  also  true  that 
man  through  his  social  life  has  produced  habits  that  re- 
semble or  are  substitutes  for  primitive  instincts.  The  love 
of  combat,  especially  as  it  is  shown  in  play  indicates  the 
presence  of  instinctive  roots,  but  it  does  not  show  the  ex- 
istence of  a  definite  instinct  of  aggression.  This  play  is  in 
part  an  off-shoot  of  the  reproductive  motive.  These  fight- 
ing plays  of  children  are  in  part  sexual  plays,  and  we  see 
them  clearly  in  their  true  light  in  some  of  the  higher 
mammals  most  closely  related  to  man. 


Instincts  in  JVar  41 

One  aspect  of  the  aggressive  habit  of  man  has  been 
too  much  neglected.  It  is  highly  probable  that  aggression 
in  man  has  been  far  more  closely  related  to  the  emotion  of 
fear  than  to  any  assumed  predatory  instinct.  It  is  a 
question  whether  the  predatory  habit  of  man,  ending  in  can- 
nibalism and  the  hunting  of  animals  for  food,  did  not  orig- 
inate in  the  time  of  the  long  battle  man  must  have  had  with 
animals  in  which  the  animals  themselves  for  the  most  part 
played  the  part  of  aggressors.  It  was  not  for  nothing,  at 
any  rate,  that  our  animal  ancestors  took  to  the  trees,  and  it  is 
certain  that  the  fear  element  in  human  nature  is  very  strong 
and  very  deeply  ingrained.  We  see  throughout  animal  life 
fear  expressed  by  aggressive  movements,  by  the  show  of 
anger,  as  well  as  by  flight.  This  is  seen  especially  clearly 
in  the  birds.  With  all  their  equipment  for  the  defensive 
strategy  of  flight  they  express  fear  instinctively  by  attack- 
ing, and  this  is  apparently  not  a  result  merely  of  the  habit  of 
defending  the  young.  The  great  carnivora  also  attack 
from  fear,  and  seem  normally  never  to  attack  such  animals 
as  they  do  not  hunt  for  prey  unless  they  are  frightened. 
The  charge  of  the  rhinoceros  and  other  great  ungulates  is 
probably  ahvays  a  fear  reaction.  They  appear  to  have  no 
other  aggressive  impulses,  certainly  none  connected  with  the 
nutritional  motives  since  they  are  herbivorous  in  habit. 

The  fear  motive  is  probably  much  deeper  in  human  na- 
ture, both  in  the  lower  and  the  higher  social  reactions  than  is 
commonly  supposed,  the  concealment  of  fear  being  precisely 
a  part  of  the  strategy  of  defense.  Fear  has  created  more 
history  than  it  is  usually  given  credit  for.  The  aggressive 
motive  alone,  in  all  probability,  would  never  have  made 
history  such  a  story  of  battles  as  it  has  been.  Nations 
usually  attribute  more  aggressive  intentions  and  motives  to 
their  neighbors  than  their  neighbors  possess,  and  war  is 
certainly  often  precipitated  by  an  accumulation  of  mutual 
distrust  and  suspicion.     Nations  are  always  watching  one 


42  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

another  for  the  least  signs  of  aggression  on  the  part  of  their 
supposed  enemies,  an  attitude  which  of  course  is  inspired 
only  by  apprehension. 

Moods  of  fear  and  pessimism  we  say  are  deeply  im- 
planted in  the  consciousness  of  man,  and  we  must  interpret 
both  his  optimism,  and  all  its  expressions  in  philosophy  and 
in  religion,  and  also  his  aggressive  behavior  as  in  large 
part  the  result  of  a  conscious  or  an  unconscious  effort  to 
(overcome  his  fear.  The  social  consciousness  is  full  of 
marks  of  age-long  dread  and  suspicion.  Fear  of  fate,  fear 
of  losing  identity  as  a  nation,  fear  of  being  overrun  by  an 
enemy,  fear  of  internal  disruption,  are  strong  motives  in 
national  life.  Fear  runs  like  a  dark  thread  through  all  the 
life  of  nations,  and  gives  to  it  a  quality  of  mysticism,  and  a 
touch  of  sadness  which  is  so  characteristic  of  much  of  the 
deepest  patriotism  of  the  world. 

Fear  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  motives  of  all  aggres- 
sive warfare  in  the  world.  We  find  it  in  every  nation,  even 
those  which  are  naturally  most  aggressive,  and  in  them 
perhaps  most  of  all.  In  the  history  and  in  the  war  moods 
of  Germany  the  fear  motive  is  unmistakable.  America  is 
not  without  it.  Nations  conceal  their  fears,  presenting  a 
bold  front  to  the  foreigner ;  but  beneath  the  display  one  can 
always  detect  suspicion,  dread  and  intense  watchfulness. 
America  has  in  the  past  feared  Germany,  and  America  fears 
the  Far  East ;  we  look  furtively  toward  Asia,  the  primeval 
home  of  all  evils  and  pestilence,  for  something  that  may 
arise  and  engulf  us.  Small  countries  fear;  large  countries 
with  their  sense  of  distances,  have  their  own  characteristic 
forms  of  apprehension.  Fear  is  the  motive  of  preventive 
wars.  It  makes  all  nations  desire  to  kill  their  enemies 
in  the  tgg.  It  creates  the  death  wish  toward  all  who  thwart 
our  interests  or  who  may  in  the  future  do  so. 

This  fear  motive  runs  through  all  history.  Parsons  says 
that  men  fight  not  because  they  are  warlike,  but  because 
thev  are   fearful.     Rohrbach  thinks  that  if  German v  and 


Instincts  in  fVar  43 

England  could  each  be  sure  the  other  would  not  be  aggres- 
sive there  would  be  no  war  between  them.  It  is  this  aspect 
of  the  foreign  as  the  unknown  that  especially  plays  upon 
the  motive  of  fear.  This  fear  is  like  the  child's  dread  of 
the  dark ;  it  is  not  what  is  seen,  but  what  is  not  seen  that 
causes  apprehension.  It  is  the  stranger  whose  psychic  na- 
ture we  cannot  penetrate,  who  causes  fear.  In  small  coun- 
tries having  only  land  borders,  this  attitude  of  suspicion  and 
fear  must  become  an  integral  part  of  the  whole  psychic 
structure  of  the  national  consciousness.  Fear  becomes  mor- 
bid; nations  have  illusions  and  delusions  based  upon  fear. 
There  are  reasons  for  believing  that  all  aggression  contains 
a  pessimistic  motive,  or  background,  and  that  this  pessimistic 
background  is  based  upon  the  emotion  of  fear.  Countries 
that  are  most  positively  aggressive  have  such  a  pessimistic 
strain.  Pessimism  is  a  shadow  that  lies  across  the  path  of 
progress  of  modern  Germany.  This  fear  motive,  the  qual- 
ity of  the  animal  that  charges  when  at  bay,  is  to  be  seen 
throughout  all  German  history.  Germany's  fear  of  Russia 
must  certainly  be  blamed  for  a  great  part  of  the  pessimistic 
strain  in  the  temperament  of  Germany,  and  therefore  as  an 
important  factor  among  the  causes  of  the  great  war.  Every 
war  appears  to  the  people  who  conduct  it  as  defensive,  pre- 
cisely because  every  war  is  to  some  extent  based  upon  fear, 
and  fear  in  national  consciousness  is  a  persistent  sense  of 
living  by  a  defensive  strategy.  It  is  existence  that  nations 
always  think  and  talk  of  fighting  for;  it  is  existence  about 
which  they  have  apprehensions.  Beneath  all  group  life 
there  is  this  sense  of  fear,  since  fear  itself  was  a  large  factor 
in  creating  that  life.  When  people  live  together,  repress  in- 
dividual desires  and  participate  in  a  common  life  we  may 
know  that  one  of  the  strongest  bonds  of  this  social  life  is 
fear.  The  need  of  defense  is  a  more  fundamental  motive 
in  national  life  than  is  aggression.  A  "  shudder  runs 
through  a  nation  about  to  go  to  battle."  The  lusts  of  war 
are  aroused  later  by  the  overcoming  of  fear. 


44  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

Germany's  inclination  to  preventive  wars,  her  incessant 
plea  of  beint;  about  to  be  attacked,  can  by  no  means  be  in- 
terpreted as  pure  deception,  or  as  an  effort  to  make  political 
capital.  Germany's  army  tvas  primarily  for  defense,  be- 
cause a  defensive  strategy  is  the  only  strategy  that  Germany 
with  her  position  and  her  temperament  can  adopt.  Ger- 
many's great  army  was  Germany's  compensation,  in  con- 
sciousness, for  the  insignificance  of  her  territory.  It  was 
for  defense.  It  was  also  a  compensation  for  a  feeling  of 
inferiority,  in  Adler's  sense.  Fanaticism,  envy,  deprecia- 
tion of  others,  aggression,  morbid  and  excessive  ambition 
were  all  fruits  from  the  same  stem.  The  gloom  which 
many  have  found  in  German  life,  and  the  pessimism  in  Ger- 
man philosophy,  we  may  explain  in  part  by  the  experi- 
ences of  Germany  as  the  scene  of  so  many  devastating  wars. 
Upon  the  background  of  fear,  in  our  interpretation  of  ag- 
gressive motives,  is  erected  German  autocracy,  German  am- 
bition and  the  conception  of  the  absolute  State,  which  may 
be  interpreted  as  almost  a  specific  fear  reaction.  It  comes 
in  time  to  have  other  meanings,  and  like  many  instinctive 
reactions,  it  may  be  put  to  uses  for  which  it  was  not  or- 
iginally produced,  but  there  is  fear  concealed  in  the  heart 
of  it.  How  action  can  be  both  defensive  and  strongly  ag- 
gressive, then,  is  no  mystery  if  we  see  that  aggression  may 
be  a  fear  reaction,  that  even  the  most  ardent  imperialism  is 
based  in  part  upon  fear,  upon  the  consciousness  at  some 
time  of  being  weak  and  inferior. 

Fear  and  suspicion  cause  aggressive  wars  even  when  the 
fear  may  be,  in  all  reason,  groundless.  There  is  no  more 
dangerous  individual  in  the  community  than  the  one  hav- 
ing delusions  of  persecution,  for  his  mania  is  naturally  homi- 
cidal. So  with  nations.  Fear  is  a  treacherous  and  de- 
ceptive passion.  We  may  see  this  fear,  if  we  choose  to 
look  for  it,  even  in  the  ecstatic  mood  of  war  and  the 
spiritual  exaltation  of  Germany  during  the  first  few  weeks 
or  months  of  the  war.     This  exaltation  was  in  part  a  re- 


Instincts  in  War  45 

action  of  fear  —  or  a  reaction  from  fear.  Germany  was 
afraid,  feared  for  her  existence,  and  the  exaltation  \vas  in 
part  a  sense  of  taking  a  terrible  plunge  into  the  depths  of 
fate.  Germany  was  afraid  of  Russia  and  afraid  of  Eng- 
land, and  that  fear  had  to  be  overcome,  because  the  pres- 
ence of  the  fear  itself  was  a  matter  of  life  or  death. 
But  the  exaltation  did  not  merely  succeed  the  fear.  It 
contained  it.  And  why  should  Germany,  even  with  all 
her  preparedness  and  her  resources  not  be  afraid?  An  in- 
herited fear  is  not  so  easily  exorcised.  Germany  arrayed 
against  all  Russia  and  all  the  British  Empire,  Germany  no 
larger  than  our  Texas  experienced  a  state  of  exaltation, 
overcoming  fear.  But  it  required  something  more  than 
courage  to  overcome  the  fear;  and  that  other  element  was 
mysticism.  To  the  sense  of  throwing  all  into  the  hands 
of  fate  which,  by  all  physical  signs  must  be  adverse,  was 
added,  as  a  compensating  element,  Germany's  mystical  be- 
lief in  her  security  as  a  chosen  nation.  Fear,  by  its  in- 
tensity and  depth  may,  like  physical  pain,  become  ecstatic 
and  thus  be  overcome. 

Hatred 

Hatred  must  be  considered  both  as  a  cause  of  war,  and 
as  an  element  in  the  war  moods.  Many  authors  have  called 
hatred  one  of  the  deepest  roots  of  war.  This  hatred  be- 
tween nations  even  Freud  says  is  mysterious.  But  Pfister, 
referring  to  Adler's  theory,  says  that  war  must  be  under- 
stood precisely  as  we  understand  enmity  among  individuals. 
A  sense  of  inferiority  is  insulted,  and  thus  aggressive  feel- 
ings are  aroused.  The  nation,  like  the  individual,  is 
spurred  on  to  make  good  its  claim  to  greatness.  It  is  a 
feeling  of  jealousy  based  upon  a  sense  of  inferiority  that 
causes  hatred.  O'Ryan  and  Anderson  (5),  military  writ- 
ers, say  there  are  two  causes  of  war :  those  based  upon  an 
assumed  necessity,  and  those  based  upon  hatred.  Nus- 
baum  (86)  also  finds  two  causes  of  war,  the  expansion  im- 


46  The  Psychology  of  iXalions 

pulse  and  the  egoism  of  species,  which  leads  to  long  en- 
mities. 

History  shows  that  we  must  accept  hatred  as  an  under- 
lying cause  of  war.  The  reaction  of  deep  anger  which  may 
be  aroused  by  a  variety  of  situations  that  arise  among  na- 
tions, especially  when  it  is,  so  to  speak,  an  outbreak 
of  a  long  continued  hatred,  is  a  proximate  cause  of  wars. 
Hatred,  the  reaction  of  anger  prolonged  into  a  mood,  differs 
as  national  or  group  emotion  from  the  anger  of  the  in- 
dividual in  part  by  being  subject  strongly  to  group  sug- 
gestion, and  in  part  because  in  the  group  consciousness  there 
is  only  rarely  a  means  of  expression,  on  the  part  of  the  in- 
dividuals of 'the  group,  of  the  feelings  of  hatred.  Enemies 
are  far  away  and  inaccessible.  Therefore  hatred  may  be- 
come deep  and  chronic. 

Hatred  between  nations  is  usually  based  upon  a  long 
series  of  reprisals  and  a  history  of  invasions.  These  inva- 
sions are  primarily  physical  invasions,  but  later  invasions 
in  the  sphere  of  invisible  values,  ofTenses  to  honor  and  the 
like  are  added.  These  ideal  values  come  to  be  regarded  as 
more  vital  than  material  values.  Hatred  between  groups 
becomes  chronic  and  often  seems  to  be  groundless  because 
the  values  concerned  have  thus  become  intangible.  The 
chronic  moods  of  hatred  and  dislike  become  explosive  forces, 
ready  to  be  excited  to  action  whenever  any  difference  arises. 
Veblen  (97)  says  wars  never  occur  except  when  questions 
of  honor  are  involved,  which  is  of  course  equivalent  to 
saying  that  the  reaction  of  anger  is  always  required  as 
an  immediate  cause  of  war.  Veblen  maintains  also  that 
emulation  is  always  involved  in  the  patriotic  spirit,  that 
patriotism  always  contains  the  idea  of  the  defeat  of  an 
opponent,  and  is  based  upon  collective  malevolence.  The 
range  of  these  occasions  of  crisis  is  so  great,  and  the  feel- 
ings of  hatred  so  persistent  and  volatile,  that  the  mechanism 
for  the  production  of  war  is  always  present.  These  causes 
range  all  the  way  from  violation  of  property  to  offense  to 


Instincts  in  War  47 

the  most  abstract  ideas  of  national  etiquette.  Violation 
of  international  law,  of  moral  principles,  we  see  now,  may 
have  very  far-reaching  effects  as  infringing  the  sphere  of 
honor  of  nations  not  directly  concerned,  since  the  prestige 
of  all  nations  as  participants  in  creating  law  and  becoming 
upholders  of  it  is  affected. 

If  hatred  and  its  crises  are  causes  of  war,  they  do  not 
fit  into  the  moods  in  which  warfare  is  generally  conducted. 
Hatred  belongs  to  the  periods  of  peace  and  of  strained  rela- 
tions, when  the  cause  of  war  is  present,  but  the  means  of 
retaliation  are  not  at  hand  or  not  in  action.  The  prevalence 
and  persistence  of  hatred  in  war  is  a  sign  of  imperfect 
morale.  Hatred  cannot  remain  in  the  war  mood  of  a  na- 
tion acting  with  full  confidence  in  its  powers.  Hatred  al- 
ways implies  inferiority  or  impotent  superiority.  Dide 
(20)  says  that  the  spirit  of  hatred  does  not  fit  into  the  sol- 
dier's life.  It  goes  with  the  desire  for  revenge  and  is 
strongest  among  those  who  stay  at  home  and  can  do  noth- 
ing. Hatred  is  a  phase  of  apprehension.  Hatred  is  a  prod- 
uct of  the  fear  that  cannot  be  taken  up  into  the  optimistic 
moods,  and  thus  be  transformed.  It  remains  as  a  foreign 
body  and  an  inhibition.  It  arises  when  obstacles  appear  to 
be  too  great,  when  there  are  reverses,  and  the  enemy  shows 
signs  of  being  able  to  maintain  a  long  and  stubborn  resist- 
ance, or  flaunts  again  the  original  cause  of  the  disagreement. 
Scheler  {yy)  says  that  revenge,  which  is  a  form  of  hate, 
is  not  a  justifiable  war  motive.  We  should  say  also  that 
it  is  not  a  normal  war  mood,  that  it  has  no  sustaining  force, 
but  causes  a  rapid  expenditure  of  energy  which  may  be  ef- 
fectual in  brief  actions,  but  is  even  there  wasteful  and  in- 
terferes with  judgment  and  efficiency.  Morale  based  upon 
hatred  is  insecure. 

Hatred  must  have  been  a  very  early  factor  in  the  rela- 
tions of  groups  to  one  another,  and  presumably  we  should 
need  to  go  back  to  animal  life  and  study  antipathies  there 
in  order  fully  to  understand  the  nature  of  racial  and  national 


48  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

antagonisms,  some  of  which  may  he  hascd  upon  physiolog- 
ical traits  and  primitive  x-sthetic  fjualities.  The  very  fact 
of  the  existence  of  groups,  segregated  and  well  bound  to- 
gether for  the  purposes  of  offense  and  defense  implies  al- 
ready a  strong  contrast  of  feeling  between  that  of  in- 
dividuals of  the  group  toward  one  another  and  that  directed 
toward  the  outsider.  This  contrast  developed  not  merely 
as  a  reaction,  but  as  a  necessity,  for  groups  in  the  beginning 
must  have  had  to  contend  against  their  o\\•^^^  feeble  social 
cohesion,  and  existed  only  by  reason  of  strong  emotions  of 
fear  and  anger  felt  toward  the  stranger.  Hatred  toward 
all  outside  the  group  must  at  one  stage  have  been  highly  use- 
ful as  a  means  of  cementing  the  bonds  of  the  group  and 
maintaining  the  necessary  attitude  of  defense,  at  a  time 
when  all  outsiders  were  likely  to  be  dangerous.  Feelings  of 
friendliness  toward  strangers  were  dangerous  to  the  life 
of  the  group,  and  so  hatred  possessed  survival  value. 

The  main  root  of  group  antipathy  is  in  all  probability 
fear.  Hatred  is  an  aspect  of  the  aggressive  defensive  to- 
ward the  stranger.  Hatred  is  a  part  of  the  aggressive  re- 
action. As  an  expression  of  ferocity  toward  all  who 
are  not  known  to  be  friendly,  it  belongs  to  the  first  line 
of  defense.  Hatred  is  likely  to  be  strong  in  the  female 
because  the  attitude  of  the  female  is  universally  defensive. 

In  the  beginning,  as  MacCurdy  (37)  says,  the  contrasts 
between  groups  were  sharp,  and  these  definitely  separated 
groups  must  have  felt  toward  one  another  not  only  antagon- 
ism but  a  sense  of  being  different  in  kind.  Intensity  of 
feelings  of  opposition  tends  to  magnify  small  differences 
into  specific  differences.  This  sense  of  specific  difference 
is  never  lost,  not  even  in  the  consciousness  of  enlightened 
nations  in  regard  to  one  another,  and  we  may  see  it  to- 
day displayed  as  a  mystic  belief,  on  the  part  of  many 
peoples,  in  their  own  superiority.  Nations  are  always  out- 
siders to  one  another,  and  the  sense  of  strangeness  peren- 
nially sustains  defensive  attitudes  and  moods  of  hatred. 


Instincts  in  IVar  49 

The  friendship  of  nations  can  never  be  very  secure,  be- 
cause the  old  idea  of  difference  of  kind  is  never  quite  aban- 
doned. Some  degree  of  enmity  seems  always  to  be  felt 
toward  the  foreigner ;  that  is,  toward  all  who  are  not  inter- 
ested in  the  protective  functions  of  the  group.  jMacCurdy 
thinks  the  intensity  of  suspicion  and  hatred  of  peoples  to- 
ward one  another  belongs  to  the  pathological  field,  and 
that  one  expression  of  this  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  mental 
processes  by  which  nations  always  justify  their  own  cause  in 
war.  This,  however,  is  perhaps  an  exaggeration,  since  we 
can  trace  these  states  of  mind  in  all  the  'history  of  the 
race. 

How  deep-seated  the  enmities  and  the  sense  of  strange- 
ness among  nations  may  be  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  national 
groups  living  in  close  proximity  to  one  another  tend  to 
become  less  friendly  rather  than  to  become  affiliated.  These 
feelings  gradually  produce  conceptual  entities,  which  stand 
for  the  reality  of  the  foreign.  These  concepts  are  de- 
posits, so  to  speak,  from  a  great  number  of  affective  re- 
actions, and  they  always  contain  imaginative  content  based 
upon  enmity  and  suspicion.  This  underlying  enmity  be- 
tween neighboring  peoples  is  not  something  rare  in  the 
world.  All  foreigners,  even  in  the  minds  of  the  most 
intelligent  of  peoples,  are  reconstructions,  caricatures. 
These  feelings  and  attitudes  are  strong  and  deep  and  they 
prevent  genuine  friendship  among  nations.  We  tend  to 
think  of  all  foreigners  as  in  some  degree  malicious,  as  de- 
signing, and  lacking  in  the  good  qualities  and  right  habits 
which  we  ourselves  possess. 

Many  authors  have  commented  upon  the  entire  inabil- 
ity of  nations  to  understand  one  another.  There  is  a  deep 
reason  for  this,  which  we  have  already  suggested.  They 
do  not  wish  to  understand  one  another.  It  is  a  part  of 
the  archaic  system  of  defense  to  maintain  an  attitude  of 
distrust  and  misunderstanding  and  even  fear.  The  fear  of 
the  enemy  is  a  protection  —  against  invasion  from  without 


50  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

and  disruption  within.  Nations  do  not  dare  to  relinquish 
their  fear  of  one  another,  and  we  see  something  of  this 
vohintary  cherishing  of  fear  and  enmity  in  the  present 
hesitation  about  entering  into  leagues  on  the  part  of  many 
nations.  Nations  really  wish  to  hate  one  another,  it  would 
seem.  Other  evidence  of  this  we  have  observed  in  the  cult 
of  hate  that  has  been  promulgated  to  keep  up  morale  in  the 
recent  war.  We  see  enmity  maintained  when  the  differ- 
ences among  the  peoples  holding  it  are  superficial  and  must 
indeed  be  exaggerated  and  caricatured  in  order  to  make  them 
support  feelings  of  dislike.  Small  differences  in  the  cus- 
toms of  closely  related  peoples  are  sufficient  sometimes  to 
maintain  intense  antagonism.  As  Collier  (68)  says,  it  is 
precisely  the  bad  manners  of  a  people  that  cause  conflict. 
These  bad  manners  are  of  course  manners  that  are  different 
from  our  ozvn. 

Germany's  outburst  of  hatred  and  its  frequent  exhibition 
during  the  war  and  its  promulgation  as  a  cult  and  a  re- 
ligion appear  to  have  excited  the  interest  of  many  writers 
on  the  war.  As  a  chapter  in  the  psychology  of  war  it  has 
suggested  new  problems  and  points  of  view,  and  it  has  also 
appealed  to  many  as  an  interesting  problem  of  national 
psychology.  If  our  explanation  of  hatred  as  especially 
related  to  fear  and  to  the  sense  of  inferiority  is  correct 
Germany  of  all  nations  must  have  been  affected  with  a 
disorder  of  morale,  or  some  perv^ersion  of  national  con- 
sciousness. 

The  hatred  of  Germany  for  England  is  not  the  only 
example  of  international  enmity  in  the  world,  but  its  ex- 
pression in  the  war  has  made  it  peculiarly  interesting.  The 
grievance  against  England  is  first  of  all  that  England  is 
great  and  prosperous,  and  lives  in  comfort  upon  the  un- 
earned fruits  of  empire,  while  the  German  has  toiled  hard 
through  the  centuries  and  has  caught  nothing.  England 
is  hated  because  in  many  ways  she  has  stood  squarely  in 
the  path  of  Germany's  progress  and  because  in  the  history 


Instincts  in  JVar 


51 


of  European  diplomacy,  doors  leading  to  wider  empire 
have  been  again  and  again  slammed  in  Germany's  face, 
usually  by  the  hand  of  England.  Germany  hates  England, 
according  to  German  writers,  because  England,  a  kindred 
race,  tried  to  betray  western  civilization  into  the  hands  of 
barbarism.  Germany  hates  England  because,  to  the  Ger- 
man mind,  England  is  hypocritical.  The  Englishman  criti- 
cizes in  others  precisely  what  he  does  himself;  Puritanical 
talk  covers  a  sinful  heart.  Germany  hates  England  because 
in  her  sea-policy  England  has  been  high  handed  and  arro- 
gant. The  Germans  often  call  England  a  robber  nation, 
with  the  morals  of  a  burglar  who,  having  enriched  himself 
by  his  trade,  and  having  retired  from  business,  now  preaches 
honesty. 

It  is  not  merely  the  hatred  of  England  on  the  part  of 
Germany  that  is  of  interest  for  a  psychology  of  war  but 
the  fact  that  Germany  has  taken  her  hate  for  England  with 
a  peculiar  seriousness,  believed  it  unique,  has  been  to  the 
pains  of  justifying  it  morally,  has  covered  it  with  religious 
exaltation,  made  it  a  cult  and  even  expressed  it  in  a  formula, 
and  made  it  an  educational  program.  There  are  many  Ger- 
man writings  justifying  the  hatred  of  England  and  encour- 
aging hate  as  a  weapon  of  righteousness.  Smith  (47)  (64) 
has  given  us  the  titles  of  forty-four  German  publications 
in  his  own  possession,  having  for  subject  Germany's  hatred 
of  England,  and  says  that  there  are  sixty-five  more  known 
to  him.  Some  of  these  expressions  of  hatred  are  extreme. 
There  is.  or  was,  a  pastor  in  Hamburg  who  declared  from 
his  pulpit  that  his  people  were  doing  God  a  service  in  hating 
England  and  in  taking  every  step  possible  to  wipe  so  pes- 
tiferous a  nation  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Frau  Renter 
says  that  it  is  impossible  now  more  than  ever  to  love  our 
enemies,  that  England  who  professed  love  for  Germany  and 
then  betrayed  her  love  must  be  hated.  Stern,  in  his  studies 
of  hate  in  children  found  that  hate  may  be  strong  without 
any  clear  content,  in  the  minds  of  German  children.     That 


52  The   Psyiholoi/y   of  Nations 

some  of  this  hatred  of  I'lngland  is  a  direct  effect  of  the  teach- 
ings of  Trcitschkc  can  hardly  be  doubted,  when  we  recall 
the  great  intliience  his  teachings  have  had,  and  the  peculiar 
bitterness  of  that  dramatic  personage  for  England,  for 
England's  pretentiousness,  her  middle  class  satisfaction,  her 
insular  conceit. 

The  further  details  of  the  cult  of  hatred  in  Germany 
need  not  detain  us,  since  the  purpose  is  only  to  suggest 
here  the  connection  of  hatred  with  the  national  pessimism, 
the  fear  and  the  inferiority  motive  of  Germany.  We  see  a 
similar  attitude  in  Austria,  where  there  is  a  violent  race 
hatred  toward  the  Serbians,  which  Le  Bon  has  regarded 
as  the  motive  from  which  Austria  went  to  war.  Ferrero 
comments  upon  the  fact  that  hatred  is  conspicuously  absent 
in  America,  and  says  that  the  greater  hatred  in  Europe  is 
due  not  only  to  the  obvious  result  of  nations  being  crowded 
together,  but  also  to  the  caste  system  which  limits  the  free- 
dom of  the  individual  and  tends  to  engender  deep  passions. 
Dide  (20)  says  that  in  Germany  preoccupation  with  the  idea 
of  injustice  is  a  cause  of  war,  and  Chapman  (39)  also 
remarks  that  Germany  had  gone  mad  thinking  of  her 
wrongs.  That  jealousy  and  fear  are  in  general  the  sub- 
stratum of  national  hatred  is  deeply  impressed  upon  one 
in  studying  the  psychology  of  Germany.  All  the  hate 
motive  of  the  late  war  might  well  be  found  in  Germany's 
prayer  "  Gott  strafe  England."  Germany  appealed  to  God 
to  punish  England,  of  course,  because  Germany  herself  could 
not.  Both  the  appeal  and  the  hatred  are  reactions  of  fear 
and  a  sense  of  impotence.  Germany  hated  England  because 
England  was  secure  behind  her  navy,  upon  her  island,  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  war  machine  which  is  Gennany's 
symbol  of  power  and  the  compensation  for  her  sense  of 
inferiority  and  weakness. 


Instincts  in  iVar  53 

The  Instinct  of  Combat 

We  may  distinguish  in  the  motives  of  war  between  the 
aggressive  tendency,  which  we  have  already  discussed  as  a 
reaction  of  fear  or  of  anger,  and  a  more  specific  instinct  of 
combat  as  a  possession  of  the  individual,  less  subject  to 
suggestion,  less  closely  related  to  the  phenomena  of  the 
herd.  The  aggressive  reaction  we  associate,  or  some  writ- 
ers do  associate  it,  with  the  predatory  instinct,  practical  in  its 
motive,  having  in  part  an  economic  basis.  The  love  of 
combat  which  appears  especially  as  a  play  motive  in  the 
child  and  the  youth  is  expressed  as  a  desire  for  conquest 
and  in  the  pleasure  of  overcoming  an  enemy. 

Some  see  in  war  a  recrudescence  of  the  instinct  of  com- 
bat, and  indeed  think  of  war  as  mainly  such  a  return  to 
primitive  instinct.  The  life  of  peace  represses  this  motive 
too  much,  they  think.  Life  is  too  organized  and  co- 
operative and  the  individual  craves  release  from  it.  The 
general  objections  to  such  an  interpretation  of  war  we 
have  already  stated.  We  think  rather  of  certain  specific 
movements  as  avenues  of  approach  to  highly  complex  states 
of  ecstasy,  and  of  these  states  of  ecstasy  as  representing  or 
containing  the  real  craving  for  war,  so  far  as  there  is 
one.  The  war  mood  exploits  these  movements  and  gives 
room  for  instincts  to  display  themselves,  and  these  instincts, 
in  their  expression,  are  pleasure-toned  because  they  are 
archaic  and  have  once  been  well  organized  and  habitual 
forms  of  activity  having  practical  objects.  But  to  say  that 
men  have  a  profound  but  concealed  desire  to  kill  one  an- 
other, that  the  fighting  impulse  remains  intact  in  some 
original  animal  form,  is  a  travesty  upon  human  nature. 
It  is  precisely  because  in  war  killing  is  depersonalized,  so 
to  speak,  that  it  is  a  moral  duty  and  is  performed  under 
conditions  in  which  there  is  a  summation  of  many  strong 
motives  leading  to  the  act  that,  as  we  see  it,  men  find 
joy  in  battle.     The  instinct  of  attack,  or  the  hunting  in- 


54  ^'^"'   l^sycliulocjy   of  Nations 

stinct  that  is  involved  in  this  activity,  can  become  pleasure- 
toned  only  because  of  the  presence  of  other  motives,  and 
because  the  object  is  dehumanized  for  the  time.  Otherwise 
we  should  expect  all  soldiers,  once  having  their  aggressive 
instincts  aroused  in  battle,  to  become  dangerous  to  the  com- 
munity. 

That  there  is,  however,  a  residue  of  pure  love  of  physical 
conil)at  and  a  survival  of  the  instinctive  movements  of 
combat  is  shown  in  play,  although  here  too  the  motives 
are  mixed.  The  desire  to  fight,  to  kill,  to  hunt  are  still 
present  but  for  the  most  part  are  sublimated  in  adult  life 
into  desire  for  competition  in  general,  love  of  danger,  and 
the  hunting  and  gambling  impulse.  But  we  can  here  and 
there  in  human  conduct  see  certain  roots  of  pure  instincts 
having  definite  coordinated  reactions.  These  undoubtedly 
do  play  a  part,  but  probably  a  very  small  part  in  the  present 
moods  of  war.  So  far  as  they  remain  purely  instinctive 
their  place  as  a  general  motive  of  war  seems  negligible.  It 
is  a  question,  in  fact,  whether  even  in  the  state  of  savagery 
any  pure  instinct  for  killing  ever  played  a  considerable  part. 
There  were  already  practical  motives,  motives  of  fear  and 
anger,  and  presumably  also  complex  states  of  pleasure  con- 
nected with  beliefs,  customs  and  ceremonies  as  well  as  with 
battle,  so  that  even  then  men  cannot  be  said  to  have  acted 
upon  anything  like  purely  instinctive  impulses. 

Numerous  accounts  have  come  from  the  scenes  of  the 
great  war  about  men  who  appear  for  a  time  to  be  domi- 
nated by  irresistible  instincts.  Gibbs  (80)  says  there  are 
some  men  in  every  army  who  like  slaughter  for  its  own 
sake.  They  find  an  intoxication  in  it.  They  love  the  hunt- 
ing spirit  of  it  all.  We  have  the  story  of  a  French  soldier 
of  peaceable  disposition  who  appeared  to  experience  an 
ecstasv  of  delight  as  he  lay  concealed  in  a  shell  hole  and 
was  able  to  pick  ofT  many  of  the  enemy.  This  was  not  the 
exhilaration  and  abandon  experienced  by  men  while  making 
attack,  when  violent  muscular  exertion  produces  an  intoxica- 


Instincts  in  JVar  55 

tion  of  mind,  but  a  dominance  of  the  mind  by  something 
which  seems  very  much  like  the  hunting  spirit,  under  cir- 
cumstances in  which,  we  may  suppose,  the  enemy  had  un- 
dergone some  process  of  dehumanization  in  the  mind  of 
the  hunter.  We  may  suppose  also  that  there  are  individ- 
uals in  every  army  who  have  pathological  impulses  or  per- 
versions, which  show  themselves  in  instinctive  reactions 
of  a  specific  nature  and  in  excess  of  the  normal. 

Both  the  Germans  and  the  French  are  accused  by  French 
and  German  writers  respectively  with  being  the  real  lovers 
of  battle.  German  writers  say  that  the  Germans  are  pecu- 
liarly peace-loving  and  by  nature  lacking  in  the  battle  spirit, 
but  that  the  French  love  battle  for  its  own  sake,  and  that 
this  is  shown  clearly  by  their  history.  Others  see  love 
of  conflict,  aggressiveness  and  cruelty  in  the  German  dis- 
position. Boutroux  (13)  wishes  to  place  among  the  causes 
of  the  great  war  the  native  brutality  of  the  German  disposi- 
tion, a  trait  existing  from  long  ago,  and  now  become  a  dis- 
ciplined cruelty  —  a  auchtmacssigc  Graiisamkcit,  regarded 
as  right  and  meritorious.  Many  think  they  find  this  love 
of  fighting,  bloodthirst  and  love  of  destruction  in  the  Ger- 
man soul.  Many  attribute  pure  aggressiveness  of  a  pro- 
nounced type  or  an  exaggerated  predatory  instinct  to  the 
Germans.  Chapman  (39)  says  that  the  war  is  a  flaming 
forth  of  passions  that  have  covertly  been  burning  in  the 
soul  of  Germany  for  several  decades.  He  adds  that  with 
the  Germans  war  is  instinctive ;  there  is  no  casus  belli  at 
all.  War  -is  for  war's  sake,  and  is  a  need  of  nature  with 
the  German.  Smith  (64)  declares  that  the  German  is  in- 
nately brutal,  and  as  one  proof  of  this  he  shows  the  sta- 
tistics of  brutal  crimes  in  Germany.  He  writes  of  the 
truculent  aggressiveness  of  the  Teutonic  race,  of  the  hatred 
and  love  of  destruction  displayed  by  the  robber  knights  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  regards  quarrelsome  aggressiveness  as 
innate  in  German  character.  Dide  (20)  thinks  that  such 
aggressive  warfare  as  is  practiced  by  the  Germans  always 


56  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

goes  with  a  pessimistic  disposition.  Thayer  (58)  con- 
nects bloodthirstincss  with  the  paganism  of  Germany,  and 
says  that  bloodthirstincss  crops  out  again  and  again  in 
German  history.  Nicolai  (79)  also  refers  to  the  craving 
for  blood  in  the  German  character,  and  says  that  it  has 
been  shown  throughout  the  history  of  the  Germans.  The 
old  sacrifices  whicli  grew  out  of  cannibalism  and  are  due 
to  the  persistence  of  the  craving  for  blood  show  an  in- 
stinctive desire  for  slaughter,  or  at  least  a  confirmed  habit 
of  killing  that  dies  hard.  But  in  all  these  characterizations 
of  national  temperament  there  is  no  clear  distinction  among 
various  motives  of  conduct.  Anger  and  fear  reactions, 
love  of  combat  itself,  the  motives  of  display  are  all  inter- 
mingled. 

There  can  of  course  be  no  precise  way  of  estimating 
the  place  of  a  pure  instinct  of  combat  among  the  causes 
of  war,  or  in  the  war  moods.  We  have  seen  reason  for  be- 
lieving that  although  these  instincts  remain  as  fragments  in 
the  individual  and  especially  are  utilized  in  higher  processes 
of  the  social  life,  they  are  less  influential  in  determining 
motives  and  conduct  than  is  sometimes  believed.  We  can- 
not at  least  explain  war  as  a  sudden  release  of  these  in- 
stincts. That  primitive  passions  for  violence,  as  Mac- 
Curdy  {2)7)  maintains,  reenforce  the  herd  antagonism,  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  apprehension  at  the  threat  of  war, 
give  rise  to  a  desire  for  w^ar,  may  be  true,  but  such  primi- 
tive passions  are  not  all  of  the  forces  that  are  at  work 
in  causing  modern  w^ars.  To  say  that  in  the  individual  of 
modern  society  a  savage  still  lives  is  an  exaggeration,  and 
does  not  properly  express  what  social  consciousness  is  or 
has  done.  The  social  life  is  not  a  balance  in  which  primi- 
tive instincts  are  held  in  leash  by  other  instincts  or  feelings, 
but  a  new  product  in  which  there  is  a  synthesis  of  impulses 
in  which  the  original  form  of  the  impulses  may  be  greatly 
transformed.  We  live  in  composite  situations  to  which 
there  correspond  composite  moods.     Often  motives  which 


Instincts  in  War  57 

clearly  reveal  to  analysis  their  instinctive  character  have 
no  tendency  to  express  themselves  in  the  definite  instinctive 
movements  corresponding  to  this  instinct-feeling,  having 
permanently  become  dissociated  from  the  primitive  re- 
actions, either  by  a  prcrcess  of  generalization  and  fusion 
of  states  and  processes  in  the  individual,  or  by  the  inherit- 
ance of  structural  changes.  There  are,  it  is  true,  all  de- 
grees of  amalgamation  of  old  and  new  elements  or  of  trans- 
formation of  old  elements,  but  to  think  of  instincts  as  re- 
maining intact  and  unchanged  in  modern  life  seems  wholly 
wrong. 

After  all  man  is  no  longer  an  animal,  and  even  the 
distance  between  man  as  a  member  of  the  present  com- 
plex organized  society  and  man  as  primitive  or  savage  is 
considerable.  The  difference  is  not  entirely  in  the  associa- 
tions themselves  but  in  all  that  the  associations  have  done, 
or  that  they  represent,  in  modifying  instincts,  which  no 
longer  exist  in  their  original  form  and  distinctness.  Man 
is  a  creature  of  feeling,  but  not  of  instinct  we  say,  and 
this  distinction  is  important  in  many  ways.  All  analogies 
between  animal  and  human  life  have  an  element  of  danger 
in  them.  To  explain  human  conduct  in  terms  of  herd  in- 
stincts—  instincts  of  aggression  and  the  like  —  is  mis- 
leading, since  the  instincts  that  are  assumed  do  not  exist 
as  such,  and  perhaps  never  did.  The  psychology  of  the 
crowd,  and  the  psychology  of  war,  cannot  be  contained  in 
the  psychology  of  the  herd,  however  attractive  the  sim- 
plicity of  these  concepts  may  be.  That  primitive  instincts 
may  remain  as  remnants,  that  the  crowd  shows  some  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  herd  and  the  pack  cannot  be  de- 
nied, and  that  in  the  spirit  of  war  these  fragments  and 
traits  play  a  certain  part  may  well  be  believed.  But  the 
synthetic  and  highly  complex  mood  we  call  the  war  spirit, 
and  the  causes  of  war,  however  archaic  some  of  their 
elements  may  be,  are  very  different  from  any  mere  sum  of 
instincts.     There   is   no   specific   craving   for   combat  that 


58  I'lie  Psychology   of  Nations 

we  can  call  a  cause  of  war,  or  that,  in  our  view,  plays 
any  con.si(lerai)le  part  in  the  causes  of  war  —  combat  as 
apart  from  practical  motives  and  the  complex  moods  into 
which,  in  its  modern  form,  it  enters.  Some  writers  ap- 
pear to  be  deceived  because  they  assume  that  war  is  it- 
self primitive,  and  do  not  see  that  in  spite  of  its  conven- 
tions and  its  old  forms,  it  is  not  far  behind  civilization, 
not  because  civilization  has  made  no  progress,  or  is  so 
insecure,  but  because  war,  chaos  though  it  be,  in  some 
respects  contains  all  our  modern  feelings.  Kerr  says  that 
war  is  due  to  a  superfluity  of  animal  force  that  must  vent 
itself,  but  such  explanations  of  war  seem  certainly  to  be 
very  far  from  the  truth.  That  theory  is  far  from  being 
adequate  as  an  explanation  of  play.  It  is  much  less  so  as 
an  explanation  of  war.  The  other  theory  of  play  that  is 
most  prevalent  and  which  is  offered  as  a  theory  of  war  — 
that  play  and  war  are  reversions  to  primitive  instincts,  is 
also  insufficient.  War  is  neither  an  overflow  of  energy 
nor  a  reversion  to  primitive  states.  Rather  it  is  caused 
by  and  involves  all  the  present  and  active  motives  of  man 
and  all  his  essential  human  qualities. 

Social  Instincts 

Whatever  the  specific  causes  of  war  may  be,  war  is  of 
course  possible  only  because  there  exists  a  mechanism  or 
instinct  or  feeling,  because  of  which  great  groups  of  people 
act  as  a  unit  in  the  common  interests  of  all.  We  usually 
speak  of  this  collective  action  as  the  result  of  social  instincts 
or  a  general  social  instinct.  It  is  the  place  of  this  "  in- 
stinct "  in  the  causes  and  moods  of  war  that  we  must  con- 
sider. War  is  a  social  phenomenon :  it  is  a  movement  di- 
rected toward  an  object,  but  the  force  that  drives  the  move- 
ment is  of  course  social. 

Several  writers,  among  them  MacCurdy  (2,7),  Murray 
(90),  and  Trotter  (82),  have  dealt  with  this  social  aspect 


Instincts  in  JVar  59 

of  war,  and  have  interpreted  war  as  a  herd  reaction.  All 
these  theories  a^-e  simple.  Trotter  maintains  that  in  man 
there  are  four  instincts  and  no  more;  self-preservative,  re- 
productive, nutritional,  and  herd  instincts.  The  peculiarity 
of  the  herd  instinct  is  that  it  does  not  itself  have  definite 
motor  expression,  but  serves  to  intensify  and  direct  the 
other  instincts.  This  herd  instinct  is  a  tendency,  so  to 
speak,  which  can  confer  instinctive  sanction  upon  any  other 
part  of  the  field  of  action  or  belief.  The  herd  instinct,  for 
example,  gives  instinctive  quality  to  the  social  organiza- 
tion and  social  proclivities  of  three  dififerent  types  of  so- 
ciety, which  appear  as  national  characters.  These  are  the 
wolf,  the  sheep,  and  the  bee  types.  The  aggressive  type  of 
social  organization  is  represented  by  the  Roman  and  now 
by  the. German  civilization.  This  is  a  declining  type,  but  it 
was  because  moral  equality  could  not  be  tolerated  in  Ger- 
many that  the  rulers  were  obliged  to  cause  Germany  to  re- 
vert to  the  primitive  aggressive  form  of  gregariousness. 
China  would  be  a  good  example  of  Trotter's  herd  of  the 
sheep  type,  for  here  the  defensive  instinct  seems  to  be  the 
dominating  social  reaction.  War  becomes,  in  such  a  herd, 
a  great  stimulus  when,  and  only  when,  it  is  a  threat  to  the 
whole  nation,  and  when,  therefore,  the  individual  fears  for 
the  whole  herd  rather  than  for  himself. 

The  third  type  is  the  bee  type,  well  represented  by  Eng- 
land, although  still  imperfectly.  This  is  the  type  toward 
which  the  world  as  a  whole  tends,  but  as  yet  there  is  no 
complete  form  of  it.  At  present  the  capacity  for  individual 
reactions  to  the  same  stimulus  has  far  outstripped  the  capac- 
ity for  intercommunication.  Intercommunication  in  the 
biological  sense  has  been  allowed  to  run  at  haphazard. 
When  once  a  great  gregarious  unit  of  this  type  shall  have 
been  thoroughly  organized,  and  be  subject  to  conscious  di- 
rection as  a  whole,  there  will  appear  in  the  world  a  new 
kind  of  social  mechanism  and  a  new  biological  form.  The 
interest  in  war  will  give  way  to  a  larger  and  more  dramatic 


6o  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

field  of  interest  and  of  conquest  than  the  mere  taking  and 
re-tai<ing  of  land.  But  there  is  as  yet  no  such  society. 
Even  in  times  of  a  great  war,  there  is  an  internal  differentia- 
tion that  cannot  be  overcome,  an  individualism  that  creates 
antagonism,  and  a  type  of  leadership  which  is  conservative 
and  static  rather  than  progressive. 

If  we  may  safely  apply  Trotter's  generalization  to  the 
present  antagonism  among  groups  (within  nations,  and  also 
national  groups)  we  might  say  that  the  rapid  differentiation 
of  the  human  species  has  had  an  effect  of  creating  within 
the  species  man  a  large  number  of  types  of  sub-specific 
value,  and  in  this  respect  man  differs  greatly  from  any  other 
species.  Differences  recognized  by  groups  of  the  same 
species  of  animals  are  generally  not  sufficient  to  create  an- 
tagonism among  the  groups,  but  in  the  case  of  man  these  dif- 
ferences have  had  precisely  the  effect  of  marking  off  groups 
with  antagonistic  interests.  The  animal  society  dom- 
inated by  a  few  instincts  directed  for  the  most  part  toward 
external  objects  preserves  a  state  of  peace  within  the  species. 
Man  by  reason  of  his  intelligence  and  his  capacities  for 
specialization  and  the  great  number  of  his  desires  tends 
to  prey  upon  his  own  kind.  This  segregation  is  in  part 
artificial,  becomes  conventional  and  is  subject  to  the  effects 
of  leadership  that  tends  to  fixate  artificial  distinctions,  but 
it  is  also  in  part  an  effect  of  the  exigencies  of  the  wider  life 
of  man.  of  his  superiority  of  which  variability  of  conduct 
is  an  essential  aspect.  This  differentiation  is  one  of  the 
conditions  of  a  firmer  organization  in  the  society  of  man 
than  any  animal  society  can  attain,  but  at  the  present  time 
the  two  processes  of  differentiation  and  organization  are 
to  some  extent  antagonistic  to  one  another. 

Trotter  maintains  that  the  tendency  of  nature  is  to  in- 
crease and  maintain  the  homogeneity  of  the  species,  but 
we  should  say  rather  that  the  whole  process  of  differentia- 
tion and  organization  is  upon  a  level  in  which  the  biological 
processes  that  make  for  or  against  homogeneity  have  but 


Instincts  in  JVar  6i 

little  effect.  The  task  before  man  is  social.  It  is  not  so 
much  a  consciousness  of  his  destiny  as  a  species  that  man 
requires,  but  of  his  work  as  an  organized  group.  It  is 
due  to  a  rapid  differentiation  and  increase  in  man's  desires 
that  he  has  become  a  species  in  which  there  is  internal  war- 
fare. It  must  be  by  the  control  of  these  desires  in  a  con- 
scious process  of  organization  that  he  will  become,  if  ever, 
a  well-ordered  and  homogeneous  group.  Trotter  thinks 
of  such  a  change  as  a  biological  phenomenon,  as  being  one 
of  those  momentous  steps  which  a  very  few  times  have  been 
'taken  in  the  development  of  organic  life  in  the  world. 

We  cannot  discuss  fully  here  these  biological  views,  as 
they  relate  to  the  future  organization  of  the  world.  That 
the  explanation  of  wars  within  the  human  species  this  view 
affords  is  correct  so  far  as  it  goes  one  would  admit. 
Men  fight  among  themselves  as  animals  do  not,  because  of 
their  differences.  We  should  prefer  to  think  of  these  dif- 
ferences, however,  neither  as  a  phase  of  biological  differ- 
entiation as  structural  change  nor  as  functional  adaptation 
by  differentiation  of  reactions  to  the  same  stimuli,  but 
as  the  effect  of  the  new  consciousness  of  desires  that  came 
with  the  rise  of  man  from  the  animal  stage,  and  the  condi- 
tions under  which  these  desires  could  and  must  be  realized. 
It  is  the  complexity  of  interests  that  has  given  to  man  his 
antagonisms  and  his  differences,  and  these  secondary  dif- 
ferences have  been  utilized  as  a  means  of  still  further  de- 
veloping the  desires  and  satisfying  them,  or  justifying  their 
satisfaction.  It  is  man's  intelligence  and  his  capacity  for 
■being  governed  in  his  conduct  by  many  desires  that  teaches 
him  to  make  war  upon  his  own  kind,  and  the  very  same 
qualities  make  his  associations  firm  and  lasting.  But  just 
in  this  ZiHiy  the  human  group  ceases  to  be  a  herd  and  to 
be  dominated  by  herd  instincts.  To  interpret  war,  there- 
fore, as  an  effect  of  social  instinct  or  herd  instinct  upon 
the  instincts  of  aggression  or  of  self-protection,  or  as  the 
effect  of  aroused  instincts  of  aggression  and  self -protection 


6i  The   Psycliology   of  Nalions 

excitini^  the  herd  instinct,  is  unsatisfactory  because  it  is 
too  simple,  and  erroneously  undertakes  to  explain  human 
life  in  terms  of  instinct  and  also  carries  biological  analogies 
too  far.  These  views,  if  we  understand  them,  seem  to  have 
the  characteristic  faults  of  all  purely  biological  sociology. 

That,  however,  the  "  herd  instinct,"  or  the  social  feeling 
or  the  cohesive  force  in  groups,  whatever  it  may  be,  is 
exceedingly  strong  and  persistent  is  shown  by  the  recent 
war.  We  see  a  world  highly  differentiated,  and  with  wide 
associations  which  seemed  to  have  become  permanent  be- 
coming at  once  a  world  in  which  the  lines  of  cleavage 
are  based  upon  propinquity  and  political  organization.  All 
ties,  except  national  ties,  were  broken  up.  The  nation,  con- 
scious of  itself,  becomes  a  unit  or  personality,  and  the 
sense  of  personality  of  a  nation  becomes  greatly  intensified 
in  time  of  war.  The  individual  becomes  unimportant,  both 
in  his  own  estimation  and  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  It  is  the 
life  of  the  nation  as  a  whole  that  is  felt  to  be  threatened 
and  under  this  threat  the  group  as  a  whole  becomes  an  ob- 
ject of  devotion  and  solicitude.  Nicolai  (79)  comments 
upon  this  Massengefuchl  and  says  that,  when  not  counter- 
balanced by  higher  elements  of  social  consciousness,  it  may 
be  a  low  and  dangerous  element  in  the  consciousness  of 
groups.  Sumner  (70)  also  speaks  of  the  extraordinary 
powder  of  gregariousness,  and  says  that  when  the  movement 
is  upon  a  vast  scale,  the  numbers  engaged  being  very  large, 
there  is  always  an  exhilaration  connected  with  the  move- 
ment, and  that  if  the  causes  involved  are  believed  to  be 
deep  and  holy,  the  force  of  this  gregarious  mood  may  be- 
come demoniacal. 

There  are  two  especially  remarkable  changes  that  take 
place  in  the  social  life  in  war  or  in  the  act  of  going  to 
war,  and  which  represent  the  social  instinct  or  feeling  at  its 
highest  point.  These  phenomena  are  types  of  social  re- 
action, but  the  question  may  be  raised  whether  thev  do 
not  represent  something  more  than  reactions  in  the  ordinary 


Instincts  in  War  63 

sense.  We  see  in  times  of  war,  first,  a  greatly  increased 
sensitiveness  to  leadership,  a  craving  for  devotion  to  a 
leader,  indeed,  which  is  sometimes  pathetic  in  its  effort  to 
transform  really  commonplace  men  into  religious  objects. 
The  leader  as  a  concept  and  an  ideal  is  a  product  of  the 
social  mood  itself,  which  does  for  him  precisely  w^hat  roman- 
tic love  does  for  its  object,  exerts  a  creative  efifect  upon 
him.  The  leader  is  magnified  to  heroic  size  and  held  up 
before  the  enemy  as  a  threat.  It  is  plain  to  be  seen  that 
this  devotion  to  leader  and  imaginative  treatment  of  him 
is  in  part  a  defensive  reaction.  The  individual  hides  be- 
hind this  colossal  figure,  and  thus  feels  himself  safe.  But 
this  protective  impulse  that  creates  the  invincible  leader  is 
not  the  only  motive ;  at  least  it  is  probably  not  the  only  one. 
The  leader  represents  the  ideals  and  the  ambitions  of  the 
people,  and  his  prestige  and  the  forms  that  surround  him, 
especially  everything  that  is  aesthetic  or  suggests  the  heroic, 
symbolize  the  craving  for  power  in  a  people.  The  strength 
and  the  peculiar  abandon  and  perversity,  one  may  say,  of  the 
affections  of  a  nation  toward  the  leader  in  time  of  war 
make  the  rise  of  such  a  leader  dreaded  by  the  political  powers 
in  every  country.  Newspapers,  in  every  war,  find  some 
heroic  figure  whom  they  exploit  as  a  coming  dictator,  and 
changes  of  leadership  in  the  field  apparently  sometimes 
have  reference  to  these  popular  currents.  But  a  nation  in 
love  with  its  leader  is  strong  in  defense,  and  readily  be- 
comes aggressive,  and  this  relation  of  mass  to  leader  is 
of  course  one  of  the  main  foundations  of  military  morale. 
The  second  universal  social  phenomenon  of  war  is  the 
greatly  intensified  feeling  of  solidarity  as  -shown  in  com- 
radeship and  united  feelings  on  the  part  of  the  people. 
This  too  is  in  part,  and  only  in  part,  a  protective  reaction. 
The  individual  becomes  safe  by  becoming  a  part  of  a  whole 
which  then  alone  seems  to  have  real  existence  and  true 
value.  The  individual  loses  himself  in  the  whole,  but  the 
whole  group  also  becomes  absorbed  and  taken  into  the  sphere 


64  The  Piychulogy   of  Nations 

of  protection  and  interest  of  the  individu.'il.  The  inflividiial 
becomes  highly  sensitive  to  everything  that  hai)pens  to  the 
group,  and  pecuharly  affected  by  the  social  mood  of  com- 
radeship. This  spirit  of  comradeship  becomes  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  qualities  of  the  social  life  in  time  of  war. 
Comradeship  in  arms  is  of  course  the  highest  point  of 
this  social  solidarity.  The  mass  action,  the  close  physical 
relationship,  subjection  to  the  same  narrow  routine  and 
the  common  experiences  of  danger,  induce  social  states 
that  represent  the  most  complete  expression  of  pure  social 
feeling,  and  excite  moods  which,  upon  occasion  m?y  reach 
the  highest  degree  of  ecstasy  or  intoxication  and  lead  to 
acts  of  the  most  exalted  heroism. 

These  changes  in  the  social  life  in  time  of  war  are 
striking  and  fundamental.  To  explain  them  would  mean 
to  explain  social  feeling  itself.  We  may  say  that  these 
phenomena  of  the  social  life  are  precisely  the  herd  reactions 
the  biological  writers  speak  of,  but  to  do  so  would  mean, 
from  our  point  of  view,  to  ignore  some  very  significant 
aspects  of  human  social  life.  It  would  ignore  first  of  all 
the  ecstatic  quality  of  the  higher  social  life,  which  is  indeed 
the  essential  quality  of  the  social  spirit  of  war.  Instead 
of  saying  that  this  intensity  of  feeling  is  merely  a  reflex 
of  an  instinctive  reaction,  we  should  say  that  it  is  the 
expression  of,  and  in  part  the  satisfaction  of.  desires  that 
are  fulfilled  in  the  social  experience  of  war.  The  intense  so- 
cial life  is  craved,  not  as  an  instinctive  reaction,  but  as  a 
complex  state  expressing  explicit  desires.  The  craving 
for  this  social  solidarity  and  ecstasy  of  social  feeling  is  a 
factor  in  the  causes  of  w^ar.  What  we  experience  socially 
in  times  of  peace  is  a  society  in  which  social  feeling  is 
narrow  and  provincial,  in  which  we  are  conscious  of  many 
antagonistic  motives.  This  social  life  fails  to  satisfy  the 
desires  which  are  seeking  expression  in  the  social  life. 
That  war  is  in  part  a  creation  of  the  social  impulse  seeking 
expression  may  be  assumed  from  the  nature  of  the  social 


Instincts  in  JFar  65 

feelings  that  are  excited  in  war.  That  such  social  feel- 
ing is  a  creation  in  the  sense  that  it  is  desired,  we  see  if 
in  no  other  way  in  the  fact  that  social  ecstasy  is  the  most 
universal  form  of  satisfaction  of  all  those  impulses  which 
fuse  in  the  intoxication  impulse,  where  we  recognize  it  as 
the  craving  for  an  abundant  or  real  life.  Life  is  most  real 
in  its  intensely  dramatic  social  forms.  Social  ecstasy  is 
in  part  a  conscious  adaptation.  It  is  something  that  is  de- 
sired and  induced,  and  artificially  cultivated  in  various  ways, 
especially  by  a  variety  of  aesthetic  social  experiences,  and 
in  the  cults  of  intoxication.  Alcohol  has  been  used  specifi- 
cally throughout  the  world  and  from  the  beginning  at  least 
of  the  historical  period  for  the  purpose  of  creating  social 
feeling.  Patriotism  is  in  part,  we  may  say,  a  cultivated  so- 
cial emotion,  and  in  the  art  of  manners  we  see  the  social  life 
given  forms  which  will  increase  its  susceptibility  to  sug- 
gestion, its  persuasive  force  and  its  organized  expression. 
Such  facts  show  us  social  emotion  which  is  something  more 
than  the  feeling  side  of  an  instinctive  reaction. 

This  is  hardly  the  place  to  try  to  elucidate  the  funda- 
mental principles  of  the  psychology  of  the  social  feelings 
or  instincts,  but  it  may  be  helpful  to  suggest  in  outline  cer- 
tain divergences  in  the  theory  of  the  social  life  that  seem  to 
be  in  point.  We  see  on  one  side  many  writers  who  tend 
to  regard  social  phenomena  as  mainly  the  result  of  instinct, 
as  the  expression  either  of  a  single  instinct  or  of  a  combina- 
tion of  several  specific  instinctive  tendencies.  Contrasted 
with  these  views  are  the  theories  according  to  which  social 
life  is  something  that  is  mainly  created  by  reason,  based,  so 
to  speak,  upon  the  observation  that  in  union  there  is  strength. 
Neither  of  these  views  seems  to  be  satisfactory.  That  so- 
cial feeling  is  based  upon  instinct  is  clear,  but  that  it  is  also 
something  created,  synthetic,  and  subjected  to  selective  proc- 
esses seems  also  evident.  Precisely  what  the  instinctive 
basis  of  the  social  life  is,  perhaps  one  cannot  with  any  cer- 
tainty determine,   nor  can  we  say  how  many  specific  in- 


66  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

stincts  enter  into  it.  lUit  that  social  feeling  in  its  higher 
levels  is  a  very  complex  mood,  in  which,  although  there 
are  several  instinctive  reactions  or  feelings,  there  is  to  \x 
discovered  no  social  instinct  as  such,  is  the  conclusion  which 
we  reach. 

Social  behavior  is  a  development  of  all  the  fundamental 
tendencies  of  the  organism.  It  has  its  roots  both  in  the  re- 
productive and  the  nutritional  motives.  These  fundamental 
tendencies  have  issued  phylogenetically  in  specific  reac- 
tions that  enter  into  the  social  life  at  all  its  levels,  and  in 
the  life  of  the  individual  these  reactions,  expressing  needs 
and  desires,  issue  in  highly  complex  moods,  in  which  funda- 
mental feelings  are  present  but  do  not  constitute  the  whole 
of  the  social  moods.  The  individual  does  various  specific 
things  with  reference  to  his  fellows  which  are  of  the  nature 
of  instinctive  reactions,  but  both  in  the  phyletic  develop- 
ment and  the  development  in  the  individual,  elements  that 
enter  into  the  modern  social  life  as  instincts  have  tended 
to  lose  their  specific  character,  have  become  general  or 
merely  organic,  have  been  transformed  and  have  to  some 
extent  lost  their  original  significance. 

The  motives  of  hunger,  the  reactions  of  the  reproductive 
mechanisms,  reactions  to  visual  impressions  and  to  sounds, 
warmth  reactions,  the  huddling  of  fear,  the  influences  of 
suggestion,  susceptibility  to  all  the  stimuli  of  the  social 
object  enter  into  social  feelings,  and  remain  to  some  extent 
as  instinctive  reactions  in  the  higher  social  processes.  But 
we  do  not  seem  to  find  any  general  social  instinct,  or  any 
specific  herd  instinct  or  any  definite  and  broadly  acting  pro- 
tective and  aggressive  instincts.  As  compared  with  some 
other  views  of  the  social  feelings  ours  assumes  in  one  way 
more  and  in  another  less  of  instinct  in  the  social  life. 
There  is  more  instinct  in  the  sense  that  more  specific  in- 
stinctive reactions  are  recognized  in  it.  but  less  in  assuming 
that  these  reactions  are  derivatives  of  primitive  reactions 
of  the  organism,  and  also  because  they  become  transformed 


Instincts  in  JVar  67 

and  fused  and  lose  their  original  forms.  They  have  come 
from  common  sources  in  organic  life,  we  might  say,  and 
they  meet  again  in  the  general  moods  which  they  help  to 
create. 

Conclusions 

It  is  an  important  point  to  observe  that  most  if  not  all 
of  the  specific  instinctive  reactions  and  feelings  engendered 
in  war,  or  occurring  as  an  incitement  to  war,  are  capable 
of  inducing  ecstatic  states.  There  are  several  of  these 
movements  and  states,  each  of  which  can  become,  so  to 
speak,  a  foundation  for  the  development  of  ecstasy. 
Combat  may  and  must  do  this,  and  probably  war  could 
never  be  carried  on  at  all  unless  danger  and  death  had  quali- 
ties which  arouse  ecstatic  moods.  There  is  a  joy  in  fight- 
ing, in  killing,  and  in  the  tumult  of  battle  that  becomes  one 
of  the  most  important  of  military  assets,  and  is  one  of  the 
main  elements  of  morale  in  the  field.  This  capacity  of 
human  nature  to  make  over  that  which  is  intrinsically  pain- 
ful into  the  pleasurable  is  one  of  the  paradoxes  of  human 
life  to  be  explained  and  taken  into  account  in  the  study 
of  the  psychology  of  war.  Fear  itself  may  induce  an 
ecstasy,  both  in  the  individual,  as  we  know  from  many  re- 
ported cases  from  the  late  war,  and  as  a  social  mood  in 
which  the  fear  contributes  a  quality  of  intensity  and  ferocity 
to  patriotism.  The  gambling  mood,  which  is  in  part  a  play 
with  fear,  is  another  ecstatic  reaction  seen  in  war,  and  it 
is  often  the  means  of  clearing  the  way,  so  to  speak,  for 
free  and  uninhibited  action. 

Of  course  all  the  purely  aesthetic  elements  in  the  social 
life  have  this  effect  of  arousing  exalted  moods,  and  indeed 
that  is  precisely  their  function.  All  social  impulses  tend 
in  this  same  direction,  and  there  is  induced  in  all  intense 
social  states  an  intoxication  mood.  In  these  social  states, 
the  reproductive  motive  is  often  clearly  discernible,  but 
partly  by  common  consent  and  convention,  and  partly  be- 


68  The  Psychology   of  jXatioris 

cause  of  the  composite  and  fused  form  of  impulses  in  the 
social  mood,  robbed  of  its  specific  reactions  and  converted 
into  a  new  product,  regarded  both  as  conduct  and  as  feel- 
ing. 

All  religious  states  aroused  in  war  tend  to  become 
ecstatic.  Their  work  is  to  overcome  the  sense  of  tragedy 
of  war,  and  it  is  only  by  becoming  intense  and  voluminous, 
so  to  speak,  that  they  can  accomplish  their  work  at  all. 
Either  they  must  end  in  a  mysticism  which  includes  or 
takes  the  form  of  exalted  moods,  or  they  must,  as  can  be 
accomplished  in  some  temperaments,  become  dynamic  states 
by  inspiring  a  fatalistic  attitude,  which  is  at  Ix^ttom  a  sense 
of  throw^ing  oneself  unreservedly  into  the  hands  of  fate. 

We  may  best  think  of  these  complex  war  moods  as  the 
forces  out  of  which  wars  are  made,  and  the  spirit  in 
which  they  are  conducted,  but  not  as  by  their  own  initia- 
tive creating  wars.  These  intoxication  moods  or  ecstasies 
are  forces  which  contain  desires  that  are  general,  we  say ; 
they  are  mental  processes  that  act  as  a  means  of  greatly 
increasing  the  volume  of  all  social  actions.  When  we 
analyze  them  we  find  specific  desires  in  them,  and  evidences 
of  instinct  and  primitive  feeling,  but  they  are  not  in  them- 
selves tendencies  toward  specific  reactions  and  in  fact  the 
motor  tendencies  they  contain  more  or  less  inhibit  one  an- 
other. 

In  general,  these  war  moods  of  which  we  speak  are 
precipitated  by  definite  and  incisive  reactions  of  fear  and 
anger.  These  emotions  of  fear  or  anger  seem  to  be  the 
necessary  positive  stimuli  to  induce  the  moods  of  war. 
Fear  and  anger,  no  one  can  maintain,  are  the  sole  causes  of 
war,  and  they  are  far  from  being  the  sole  factors  of  the 
war  moods,  but  they  are  the  usual  precipitants  of  war. 

Fear  and  anger  as  social  emotions  cannot  sustain  organ- 
ized and  effectual  social  activity  upon  a  large  scale ;  we  see 
them  always,  in  war,  taken  up,  transformed,  absorbed  in 
moods  which  are  at  once  more  practical,  and  more  exalted 


Instincts  in  War  69 

and  which,  as  complex  processes,  can  be  sustained  over 
long  periods  of  time.  But  these  primitive  reactions  of 
anger  and  fear  enter  into  the  ecstatic  moods,  become  asso- 
ciated with  or  induce  aesthetic  and  religious  states  of  con- 
sciousness, gain  moral  justification  or  religious  exploitation, 
become  aspects  of  directive  and  dynamic  moods  and  so  give 
force  and  efficiency  to  morale  and  strategy. 

War  appears  as  a  breakdown  of  certain  modes  of  volition. 
Certain  types  of  conflict  are  abandoned,  and  aggressive  ac- 
tivities become  more  simple  and  powerful,  but  war  is  no 
reversion  to  primitive  instinct,  or  to  any  number  of  in- 
stincts. The  resulting  states  of  mind  are  too  rational  as 
means,  and  too  exalted  and  ideal  to  be  thus  primitive.  New 
content  is  introduced  into  social  consciousness  and  new 
purposes  come  to  light  in  these  ecstasies,  even  though  the 
consciously  sought  objectives  may  be  archaic  and  conven- 
tional and  the  mental  states  traceable  to  more  elementary 
states,  and  the  conduct  be  similar  in  purpose  and  type  to  the 
simpler  forms  of  conduct  we  find  in  the  animal  world. 
What  we  are  trying  to  impress  here  is  the  well  known  truth 
that  the  whole  of  a  thing  is  not  necessarily  contained  in 
its  parts.  It  is  the  meaning  of  the  war-mood  as  a  whole, 
as  a  summation  of  many  factors  of  the  mental  life,  and  as  a 
direction  of  social  consciousness  as  a  whole  that  is  its  most 
important  characteristic. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AESTHETIC    ELEMENTS    IN    THE    MOODS    AND   IMPULSES 
OF    WAR 

That  experiences  and  motives  which  belong  to  the  field 
of  the  aesthetic  play  an  important  part  in  war  can  hardly 
be  doubted.  The  whole  history  of  war  shows  this,  and 
even  in  the  beginning  war  seems  to  be  an  activity  carried 
on  in  part  for  its  own  sake,  and  not  entirely  for  its  prac- 
tical results,  and  thus  has  qualities  which  later  are  ex- 
plicitly aesthetic.  We  cannot  of  course  separate  sharply 
the  aesthetic  motive  from  everything  else  in  studying  so 
highly  complex  an  object  as  war.  but  that  war  does  partake 
of  the  nature  of  what  we  call  the  beautiful,  and  that  the 
craving  for  the  beautiful  is  a  factor  in  the  causes  of  war 
seem  to  be  certain.  The  relation  of  art  to  war  is  of  course 
no  new  theme.  War  has  often  been  praised  because  of 
its  aesthetic  nature,  and  its  dramatic  features.  It  is  called 
a  beautiful  adventure.  It  is  reproduced  in  pictorial  art, 
represented  in  music,  and  thus  glorified  and  adorned,  show- 
ing at  least  that  it  can  readily  be  made  to  appear  beautiful  if 
it  does  not  in  itself  possess  beauty.  Those  who  think  of 
war  as  related  to  play  also  connect  it  with  art.  Xicolai 
(79),  who  condemns  war,  says  that  it  is  when  war  as  an 
instinctive  action  is  no  longer  useful,  but  is  performed  for 
its  own  sake  that  it  becomes  beautiful. 

We  cannot  undertake  to  enumerate  all  the  aesthetic  quali- 
ties of  war,  or  to  show  all  the  relations  of  the  aesthetic  as- 
pects to  other  motives  of  war  in  detail,  since  to  do  so  would 
mean  to  work  out  some  of  the  fundamental  principles  of 
aesthetics.     We  may  begin,  however,  by  saying  that  war  as 

70 


Aesthetic  Elements  of  War  71 

a  whole,  as  a  movement  in  which  there  is  complete  organiza- 
tion of  social  forces  shows  already  the  marks  of  aesthetic  ex- 
perience and  of  art.  As  such  a  unification  of  interest  in  a 
strong  and  uninhibited  movement,  as  a  coordinated  ex- 
pression of  deep  desires,  a  multiplicity  of  action  with  a 
unity  of  purpose,  so  to  speak,  war  is  aesthetic  in  form 
although  to  mention  such  very  general  qualities  does  not  go 
very  far  toward  characterizing  an  object. 

In  its  meaning  as  tragedy  war  contains  and  exerts  a 
strong  aesthetic  appeal.  With  all  its  horrors,  war  fasci- 
nates the  mind.  As  fate,  death,  history  it  inspires  awe, 
and  creates  a  sense  of  the  inevitableness  of  events  and  of  the 
play  of  transcendental  and  inexorable  forces  in  human  life. 
When,  under  any  influence,  these  feelings  appear  as  an  ac- 
cepting and  willing  of  evil,  we  have  the  tragic  movement  as 
we  find  it  in  art.  The  death  motif  in  war  is  the  center 
of  a  variety  of  states  which  are  ecstatic  and  have  aesthetic 
quality.  The  religion  of  valor,  the  passion  that  is  aroused 
by  abandoning  oneself  to  fate,  the  absolute  devotion  of 
service  are  aesthetic  in  form  as  experience,  whatever  else 
they  may  be.  The  relation  of  these  motives  to  love  and 
to  the  reproductive  impulses  has  often  been  noticed.  De- 
votion and  death  appear  as  beautiful;  their  representation 
in  art  is  in  part  a  recognition  of  this  fact;  in  part  it  is  an 
effort  to  transform  them  into  the  forms  of  the  aesthetic. 
Art  celebrates,  but  also  creates,  this  luxury  of  feeling,  and 
war  also  in  its  own  dramatic  movement  transforms  ugly  and 
plain  facts  of  life  by  including  them  in  ecstatic  states,  and 
surrounding  them  with  glory. 

The  ideal  of  glorified  death  plays  a  large  part  in  the 
spirit  of  war.  In  war  the  fear  of  death  is  not  only  in 
great  part  stilled,  but  there  is  a  longing  to  tempt  fate  and 
also  to  experience  death  itself,  and  this  desire  may  be- 
come ecstatic.  Here  we  see  in  effect  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant functions  of  the  aesthetic,  which  is  to  carry  on  a 
drama  of  the  zvill  in  which  something  that  is  in  itself  pain- 


72  Tlic   Psychology   of  N a! ions 

ful  becomes  pleasant  and  desired.  The  desire  for  war  is 
to  some  extent  a  desire  for  death,  a  longing  for  a  form  of 
euthanasia  in  which  the  individual  dies  but  in  a  sense 
lives  —  lives  as  glorified  in  death,  and  also  in  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  life  of  the  group  and  of  the  country  into 
which  he  has  been  absorbed.  It  is  of  course  its  relation 
to  death  that  more  than  anything  else  has  made  it  neces- 
sary that  war  should  appeal  to  art.  and  take  an  aesthetic 
form,  and  without  the  aid  of  the  aesthetic,  war  could  not 
maintain  itself  in  the  w^orld.  As  a  sheer  fulfillment  of 
duty  w-ar  could  not  survive.  By  the  strength  of  its  aesthetic 
appeal  war  must  control  and  overcome  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation. 

War  appeals  to  the  human  mind  as  the  great  adventure  of 
life.  To  the  healthy  normal  man  this  appeal,  under  cer- 
tain circumstances,  may  be  compelling  in  its  power.  Man 
feels  the  call  of  adventure  in  his  blood.  War  may  seem 
at  times  the  natural  expression  of  what  is  most  real  and 
most  essentially  masculine  in  human  nature.  War  is  the 
essence  of  all  the  dramatic  and  heroic  story  of  the  world. 
The  past  lives  most  vividly  in  this  theme  of  war,  and  the 
sense  of  remoteness  in  time  lends  an  aesthetic  coloring  to 
all  the  story  of  war,  and  is  in  part  its  fascination.  The  dead 
heroes  of  to-day  are  glorified  by  linking  their  names  with 
the  great  heroes  of  the  past. 

To  the  glory  of  the  individual,  which  is  an  aesthetic  ap- 
peal, is  added  the  still  stronger  appeal  of  the  ideal  of  na- 
tional glory.  The  image  created  in  the  mind  which  sus- 
tains the  devotion  of  the  individual  is  also  an  aesthetic 
form.  It  is  the  idea  of  a  nation  transformed  by  story,  sym- 
bol and  eloquence  that  is  established.  The  dimness  and 
mysticism  of  the  long  ago,  all  dramatic  scenes  of  the  na- 
tional life,  the  forms  of  royalty  are  used  in  transforming 
reality  into  an  ideal.  The  consciousness  of  a  nation  is  in- 
deed an  artist  which  creates  an  ideal  nation,  glorifying 
and  transforming  the  past,  and  painting  a  vivid  picture  of 


Aesthetic  Elements  of  War  73 

the  empire  that  is  to  be.  No  little  part  in  the  German  idea 
of  the  fatherland  has  been  taken  by  the  revived  image  of  the 
old  German  Empire,  and  the  story  of  Charlemagne,  the 
Ottonides,  the  Hohenstaufen  and  the  Hohenzollern  which 
has  been  woven  into  the  life  of  the  present  and  has  become 
an  aesthetic  setting  for  the  idea  of  future  greatness. 

In  the  religion  of  valor,  also,  we  may  find  aesthetic  ele- 
ments. Valor  represents  in  this  cult  the  spirit  of  the  supe- 
rior man.  It  is  an  aristocratic  idea.  Military  life  is  full  of 
this  theme.  The  ideals  of  noblesse  oblige,  honor,  the  spirit 
of  sportsmanship,  enter  into  it,  and  all  these  concepts  are  in 
part  aesthetic  in  nature.  It  is  neither  as  moral  nor  as  practi- 
cal ideas  that  they  have  so  deeply  influenced  society,  but 
because  of  their  appeal  to  the  sense  of  the  beautiful.  All 
this  aspect  of  war  and  military  life,  both  in  its  motives  and 
in  its  forms,  is  closely  related  to  the  pure  beauty  of  art. 
The  play  spirit  also,  which  in  some  of  its  developments  at 
least  is  aesthetic,  enters  into  the  motives  of  war.  War,  we 
say,  is  the  great  adventure.  It  is  the  realization  of  power. 
It  is  an  expression  of  the  love  of  the  sense  of  freedom.  It 
is  the  great  game,  in  which  everything  is  staked.  The  love 
of  danger  and  the  love  of  gambling  with  life  that  it  con- 
tains have  roots  that  are  also  roots  of  various  forms  of 
art. 

Another  element,  aesthetic  in  motive  and  form,  obviously 
related  to  the  reproductive  functions  of  the  individual,  is  the 
display  motive.  This  motive  of  display  is  concerned  espe- 
cially with  the  idea  of  courage.  It  is  of  course  a  deep 
desire  of  the  male  to  display  courage  before  the  female. 
This  display  motive  must  be  the  main  motive  of  the  uniform 
and  all  the  other  ornamental  aspects  of  military  life.  Rank, 
titles  and  decorations  belong  to  the  same  movement.  They 
are  indications  of  the  advancement  of  the  man  in  those  es- 
sential qualities  of  the  soldier,  the  chief  of  which  is  cour- 
age. The  aesthetic  forms  in  which  courage  is  represented 
help  to  sustain  it,  and  are  an  important  element  in  morale. 


74  Tlic   Psychology   of  Nations 

and  they  also  serve  a  ])iirpose  in  creating  or  adding  to  the 
alkirement  of  the  service  and  the  fascination  of  war.  It 
is  the  craving  for  the  display  of  courage,  the  desire  of  the 
man  "  to  show  the  stuff  that  is  in  him,  "  that  gives  to  war 
some  of  its  most  persistent  aesthetic  forms,  and  these 
aesthetic  forms  help  both  to  make  the  display  of  courage 
efYective  and  to  create  courage. 

Among  these  aesthetic  elements  of  war  must  be  considered 
of  course  the  rhythms,  the  forms,  all  the  concerted  action, 
the  marching  (which  may  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  forms 
of  the  dance),  the  parade,  the  maneuvering  and  drill  that 
enter  into  military  life.  Already  in  primitive  warfare  these 
aesthetic  forms  begin  to  appear  and  indicate  clearly  both 
their  practical  significance  as  means  of  affecting  the  will,  and 
their  relations  to  the  religious  and  to  the  reproductive  mo- 
tives. The  warrior  tries  to  create  in  his  person  the  appear- 
ance of  power,  and  also  by  the  aesthetic  forms  he  introduces 
into  his  warfare,  the  feeling  of  power.  He  believes  indeed 
that  through  these  aesthetic  forms  he  actually  creates  or 
exerts  power.  This  is  the  motive  of  the  war  dance,  which 
as  an  aesthetic  form  produces  this  ecstasy  of  the  feeling  of 
power.  This  power  is  often  conceived  to  be  magical ;  the 
women  dancing  at  home  are  supposed  to  exert  an  influence 
upon  the  men  in  the  field  or  upon  the  enemy,  and  the  sav- 
age believes  that  in  his  own  displays  he  actually  overcomes 
the  spirit  of  his  enemy.  Art  is  here  plainly  serving  a  pur- 
pose. Display  is  a  means  of  creating  an  impression  in  the 
minds  of  the  enemy.  It  also  has  the  purpose  of  creating  an 
effect  in  the  mind  of  the  soldier  himself.  The  art  in  mili- 
tary life  is,  indeed,  to  give  the  impression  of  power  to  all 
who  must  be  affected  by  the  exhibition  of  force. 

All  social  life  contains  elements  that  appeal  to  the  aesthetic 
sense,  and  these  aesthetic  elements  are  by  no  means  solely 
ornamental.  The  universal  development  of  etiquette  and 
manners  has  reference  to  very  practical  aspects  of  the  social 
life.     Their  function  is  to  influence  the  will.     The  highly 


Aesthetic  Elements  of  War  75 

developed  etiquette  of  military  life  is  not  merely  to  facilitate 
the  military  functions,  and  it  is  no  explanation  of  the  for- 
malism of  the  military  life  to  say  that  this  is  a  sign  of  its 
archaic  nature.  Formalism  in  this  life  is  one  of  the  means 
taken  to  cover  up  all  the  details  of  militarism  that  are  re- 
pugnant: the  hardship,  the  lack  of  freedom  and  the  like. 
Etiquette  acts  persuasively  upon  the  will,  it  helps  to  make 
military  life  desired,  and  to  make  men  submissive  under 
control  of  absolute  leaders.  All  formalism  in  social  life, 
considered  in  one  aspect  of  it,  is  a  symbol  of  the  resigna- 
tion of  the  will  of  the  individual.  As  thus  a  symbol  it  may 
either  convey  or  mediate  social  feeling,  and  when  social 
feeling  is  absent  the  art  of  manners  may  become  a  substitute 
for  this  social  feeling,  and  in  both  these  ways  it  is  a  means 
of  giving  to  society  cohesion,  order  and  form. 

Such  considerations  as  these  help  to  explain  the  longing 
for  war  or  its  equivalent  which  persists  in  the  human  heart. 
It  helps  us  to  realize  the  truth  of  Cramb's  (66)  assertion 
that  the  whole  history  of  the  world  shows  that  man  has 
lacked  not  only  the  power  but  the  will  to  end  war  and  estab- 
lish perpetual  peace.  There  are  still  motives  in  the  mind  of 
man  that  make  him  approve  of  war.  War  is  perpetuated 
because  of  its  heroic  form,  as  a  form  of  experience  in  which 
the  meaning  of  life  is  felt  to  be  exploited,  in  which  life  is 
transformed  and  glorified,  in  which  the  tragedy  of  life, 
which  in  any  case  is  inevitable,  becomes  a  tragedy  which, 
because  it  bears  the  form  of  art,  is  acceptable  and  even 
longed  for.  This  is  the  allurement  of  war,  its  persistent 
illusion,  perhaps.  The  aesthetic  forms  of  war  take  war  out 
of  the  field  of  reason,  and  on  occasion  make  it  transcend 
or  pervert  reason.  So  we  may  understand  why  it  is  true 
that  sometimes  those  who  but  little  understand  why  they 
are  to  die  on  the  field  of  battle  may  display  the  greatest 
courage  and  the  greatest  enthusiasm  for  war,  and  we  must 
not  say  that  these  causes  are  fatuous  because  they  exist  in 
the  realm  of  aesthetic  values. 


76  The   Psychology   of  iS' alions 

If  we  take  war  too  realistically,  with  reference  to  its 
practical  motives,  its  mere  killing  and  looting,  which  we 
may  suspect  are  related  to  the  nutritional  motive  that  we 
always  find  running  through  human  conduct,  and  leave  out 
of  account  those  aspects  of  war  which  seem  to  belong  mainly 
to  the  reproductive  motive,  to  the  enthusiasm  and  intoxi- 
cation and  art  of  the  world,  we  shall  to  that  extent  misun- 
derstand it.  These  motives  cannot,  of  course,  l)e  separated 
definitely  from  one  another  in  analyzing  conduct,  but  we 
cannot  be  very  wrong  in  differentiating  phases  of  war  which 
belong  predominantly  to  the  reproductive  motive.  It  is 
because,  at  least,  all  deep  tendencies  of  life  are  in- 
volved in  war  that  it  is  so  hard  to  eliminate  it  from  experi- 
ence. If  war  were  an  instinctive  reaction  it  might  be  con- 
trolled by  reason.  If  it  were  an  atavism  or  a  rudimentary 
organ  some  social  surgery  or  other  might  relieve  us  of  it. 
But  war  is  a  product  of  man's  idealism,  misdirected  and 
impracticable  idealism  though  it  may  be,  but  still  something 
very  expressive  of  what  man  is.  It  is  this  idealism  of  na- 
tions, leading  them  to  the  larger  life,  that  makes  them  cling 
to  war,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil.  It  will  avail  little  to 
prove  to  the  world  that  war  is  an  evil,  so  long  as  war  is  de- 
sired, or  so  long  as  something  which  war  so  readily  yields 
is  desired.  Statistics  of  eugenics  and  proofs  that  war  ruins 
business  will  not  yet  cure  us  of  our  habit  of  war.  and  not 
at  all  so  long  as  there  is  a  vacancy  in  life  which  only  the 
dramatic  experiences  of  war  can  fill.  When  war  is  aban- 
doned, it  will  be  given  up  probably  not  because  economists 
and  sociologists  vote  against  it,  and  we  see  that  peace  is 
good,  but  by  the  consent  of  a  world  which,  once  for  all.  is 
willing  to  renounce  something  that  is  dear  to  it  and  held  to  be 
good,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  it  symbolizes  what  life 
and  reality  are.  The  world  appears  to  have  two  minds 
about  war,  or  at  least  it  does  not  hold  consistently  to  any 
one  attitude  toward  it.     Beneath  all  judgments  about  the 


Aesthetic  Elements   of  IV ar  77 

evils  of  war,  there  is  the  allurement  of  these  aesthetic  mo- 
tives which  must  be  reckoned  with  in  any  psychology  of 
war,  or  in  any  practical  plan  for  eliminating  war  from  the 
future  experience  of  the  race. 


CHAPTER  V 

PATRIOTISM,    NATIONALISM    AND    NATIONAL    HONOR 

Many  authors  find  in  patriotism  or  in  national  honor  the 
chief  or  the  sole  cause  of  war.  Jones  (37),  the  Freudian, 
for  example,  says  that  patriotism  is  the  sum  of  those  causes 
of  war  which  are  conscious  as  distinguished  from  the  re- 
pressed motives.  Nicolai  (79)  says  that  patriotism  and 
chauvinism  would  have  no  meaning  and  no  interest  without 
reference  to  war,  and  that  for  the  arts  of  peace  one  needs 
no  patriotism  at  all.  Hoesch-Ernst  (s^),  another  German 
writer,  says  that  patriotism  has  made  history  a  story  of 
wars.  It  has  developed  the  highest  virtues  (and  the  worst 
vices),  but  it  creates  artificial  boundaries  among  peoples, 
and  gives  to  every  fighter  the  belief  that  he  is  contending 
against  brute  force.  X'eblen  (97)  says  that  patriotism  is 
the  only  obstacle  to  peace  among  the  nations.  MacCurdy 
(37)  speaks  of  the  paradox  of  human  nature  seen  in  the 
fact  that  the  loyalty  we  call  patriotism,  which  may  make 
a  man  a  benefactor  to  the  whole  race,  may  become  a  menace 
to  mankind  when  it  is  narrowly  focussed.  Xovicow  says 
that  what  shall  be  foreign  is  a  purely  conventional  matter. 
Another  writer  remarks  that  patriotism  is  the  guise  under 
which  the  instincts  of  tiger  and  wolf  run  riot. 

Several  writers,  Powers  (75  ),  and  especially  \''eblen.  place 
questions  of  national  honor  among  the  main  causes  of  war. 
Veblen  would  hold  that  wars  never  occur  unless  the  ques- 
tions involved  are  first  converted  into  questions  of  national 
honor — and  are  then,  but  only  then,  supported  as  moral 
issues.     Other  writers  are  to  be  found  who  make  the  same 

78 


Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     79 

claims  for  honor,  saying  that  wars  are  always  over  ques- 
tions of  national  honor  —  honor  always  meaning  here,  let 
us  observe,  not  moral  principle  but  prestige,  dignity,  analo- 
gous to  what  we  call  personal  pride  in  the  individual. 

Broadly  speaking,  we  may  say  that  such  views  of  war  base 
it  upon  the  fact  that  nations  are  individuals,  having  per- 
sonality and  self-consciousness,  and  are  moved  by  emotions 
such  as  dominate  the  individual,  although  such  analogies 
between  individual  and  group  are  never  free  from  objec- 
tion. But  that  the  consciousness  of  the  group  as  an  indi- 
vidual may  be  exceedingly  intense,  full  of  aggressiveness, 
intolerance  and  pride,  of  great  sensitiveness  to  all  outside 
the  group,  is,  of  course,  obvious  from  the  history  of  nations. 
Groups  thus  endowed  with  a  sense  of  solidarity  and  sensi- 
tiveness become  highly  vitalized  and  persistent  personalities 
which  stalk  through  the  pages  of  history  with  tremendous 
powder  and  tenacity  of  purpose.  Nations  thus  live  intensely, 
and  in  their  intense  feelings  and  personal  attributes  there 
are  expressed  purposes  and  ideals,  conscious  and  uncon- 
scious, analogous  to  those  which  make  the  individual  also 
an  historical  entity. 

There  seem  to  be  two  aspects  of  group  personality  that 
need  to  be  investigated  in  detail  in  any  study  of  war,  and 
which  must  be  distinguished  from  one  another,  as  they  may 
be  by  referring  to  the  primitive  or  central  emotional  quality  ^' 
which  each  has.  These  are  patriotism  and  the  sense  of 
honor,  the  former,  for  our  purposes,  to  be  regarded  as  the 
sum  of  the  affections  a  people  has  for  that  which  is  its  own  ; 
the  second  a  sum  of  those  feelings  and  attitudes,  the  emo-  . 
tional  root  of  which  is  pride.  These  feelings  are  the  af- 
fective basis  of  the  idea  of  nationalism. 

Patriotism,  or  love  of  country  or  feeling  of  loyalty  to- 
ward country,  is  a  highly  complex  emotion  or  mood,  and 
its  object,  an  ideal  construction,  is  formed  by  a  process  of 
abstraction  in  which  certain  qualities  of  home,  environment, 
social  objects  selected  by  those  feelings  are  made  over  into 


8o  TJw   PsycJiology   of  Nations 

a  composite  whole.  Tatriotism  is  inimcdiatelv  connected 
with  the  fact  that  men,  by  some  biological  or  other  neces- 
sity are  formed  into  groups,  in  which  the  consciousness  of 
the  individual  in  re<]^ard  to  the  group  and  its  meml>ers  and 
its  habitat  is  different  from  the  consciousness  in  regard  to 
everything  outside.  Patriotism  is  devotion  to  all  tliat  per- 
tains to  the  group  as  a  separate  unit,  and  its  form  and  in- 
tensity are  dependent  upon  what  the  group  as  a  unit  does. 
The  size  and  organization  of  the  group  to  which  the  patri- 
otic feeling  may  go  out  may,  it  is  obvious,  differ  widely. 

There  appear  to  be  five  more  or  less  distinct  and  different 
factors  in  patriotism ;  or,  we  might  say.  five  or  more  objects 
of  attachment,  the  love  of  w'hich  all  together  constitutes 
patriotism.  These  objects  are:  home,  as  physical  country; 
the  group  as  collection  of  individuals:  mores,  the  sum  of 
the  customs  of  a  people;  country  as  personality  or  historical 
object,  and  its  various  symbols;  leaders  or  organized  gov- 
ernment or  state,  its  conventions  and  representations. 

The  deepest  of  all  strata  in  the  very  complex  feeling  of 
patriotism,  one  which  is  concerned  in  every  relation  among 
nations,  is  the  devotion  to.  or  habituation  to  —  or  we  might 
say  identity  with  —  the  great  complex  of  ideals,  feelings, 
and  the  like  which  make  up  the  customs,  folkways,  mores 
or  ethos  of  a  group.  The  individual  as  a  conscious  per- 
son is  to  such  an  extent  created  by  these  conscious  factors 
that  we  find  that  the  reality  sense  is  in  part  produced  by 
them.  We  have  already  referred  to  the  belief  on  the  part 
of  many  peoples  that  they  alone  are  real.  Foreigners  with 
different  mores  probably  always  seem  less  real  than  our 
own  people :  thev  mav  even  be  looked  upon  as  automata, 
as  not  being  moved  by  the  feelings  and  purposes  that  we 
ourselves  have.  The  language  of  the  foreigner,  the  unedu- 
cated man  is  inclined  to  think  of  as  having  no  meaning. 
Every  group  has  its  own  ways,  and  whatever  else  war  may 
be.  it  is  in  every  case  an  argument  for  the  superiority  of  the 
ways  of  the  group.     Each  group  in  war  feels  that  its  own 


Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     8i 

most  intimate  possessions,  its  morality  and  its  genius  are 
attacked.  It  guards  these  instinctively,  and  a  part  of  the 
purpose  of  aggression  is  the  desire  to  make  these  things  pre- 
vail in  the  world,  because  they  are  felt  to  be  the  only  right, 
true  and  sensible  ways.  This  preference  for  our  own  ways, 
and  participation  in  them,  is  the  basic  fact  of  nationality. 

The  feeling  of  patriotism  is  thus  primarily  an  aesthetic 
appreciation  (or  at  least  an  immediate  and  intuitive  one) 
of  the  totality  of  the  life  of  the  group.  Just  as  standards 
of  normality  and  artistic  form  in  regard  to  the  human  per- 
son and  its  adornment  vary  from  group  to  group,  and  are 
produced  in  the  consciousness  of  the  group,  so  there  is  a 
reaction  of  pleasure  to,  and  attachment  for,  the  whole  of  the 
life  that  surrounds  the  individual.  This  appreciation  is 
wider  than  moral  feeling,  which  indeed  is  in  part  based 
upon  it,  and  is  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  any  act  to  belong  to 
the  whole  of  the  conduct  that  promotes  the  welfare  of  the 
group.  _    _  ^ 

Patriotism  is  best  known,  or  at  least  it  is  most  celebrated,  \ 
as  an  attachment  to  the  native  land  as  place.  This  is  the  / 
poet's  patriotism.  It  is,  however,  something  more  than  a 
mere  love  of  the  homeland  as  landscape,  and  we  cannot,  in- 
deed, separate  out  any  pure  love  of  physical  country.  The 
love  of  country  seems  to  be  an  expansion  of  the  attachment 
to  home,  as  the  place  in  which  the  family  relations  are  ex- 
perienced. The  sense  of  place  is  the  core  of  the  love  of 
home,  but  it  is  supplemented  and  reen  forced  by  the  personal 
affections.  The  attachment  to  place  has  also  its  biological 
roots,  the  sense  of  familiarity  of  place  being,  of  course,  as 
the  basis  of  orientation,  a  deep  element  in  consciousness. 
Fear  of  the  unknown  increases  the  attachment  to  the  known. 
The  land  as  the  source  of  livelihood  is  loved,  and  there  are 
also  older  elements  in  the  love  of  the  land  as  is  shown  by 
myths  and  folklore.  There  is  in  it  the  idea  of  ownership 
but  also  the  idea  of  belonging  to  the  land.  So  there  is  both 
the  filial  and  the  parental  attitude  in  patriotism.     As  father- 


82  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

land  or  motherland  country  is  superior  to  and  antecedent 
to  us ;  as  possession  it  is  something  to  hold  and  to  transmit, 
to  improve  and  to  leave  the  impress  of  our  work  upon.  As 
historic  land  there  is  the  idea  of  sacred  soil,  of  land  which 
persists  through  all  time.  Ancestor  worship  enters;  the 
soil  as  the  resting  place  of  forefathers  acquires  not  only  a 
religious  meaning,  but  there  is  attached  to  it  such  feeling 
of  an  aesthetic  nature  as  is  attached  to  everything  that  is 
full  of  tradition.  The  protective  attitude  is  prominent  in 
this  patriotic  love  of  land.  There  is  in  it  the  fear  of  inva- 
sion, a  sense  of  the  sacredness  and  inviolability  of  the  body 
of  a  country  when  it  has  once  been  established  as  an  his- 
torical entity.  A  study  of  the  psychology  of  invasion  and 
of  homesickness  would  no  doubt  throw  further  light  upon 
the  still  unknown  aspects  of  the  intricate  moods  of  home 
love. 

j  A  third  element  in  patriotism  is  social  feeling.  This  is 
Jprimitive,  but  whether  it  is  a  herd  consciousness  or  a  radi- 
(ation  of  the  social  feelings  connected  with  blood  relation- 
ship and  community  of  immediate  practical  interests  it  is 
not  especially  important  to  decide  in  this  connection,  except 
that  the  assumption  of  a  specific  herd  instinct  as  distin- 
guished from  social  feeling  or  instinct  appears  to  be  un- 
necessary. Loyalty  of  the  individual  to  the  group,  which  is 
accompanied  by  or  is  based  upon  intensified  or  ecstatic  feel- 
ing is  one  of  the  strongest  elements  of  patriotism.  Social 
feeling  as  an  attachment  to  the  widest  group,  the  nation,  is 
in  general  a  latent  feeling  or  an  undeveloped  one.  Wt  see 
it  becoming  active  and  intense  only  under  circumstances  in 
which  the  whole  group  is  threatened  or  for  some  other  rea- 
son is  compelled  to  act  as  a  unit.  The  recent  psychology 
of  the  soldier  shows  us  that  absolute  devotion  to  or  absorp- 
tion in  the  whole  may  be  produced  automatically  by  the 
proper  stimuli,  and  may  be  controlled  as  the  mechanism  of 
morale,  and  that  elementary  sensations  enter  into  it.  The 
wider  social  consciousness  as  devotion  to  the  whole  group, 


Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     83 

the  nation,  is  based  upon  such  reactions,  and  can  probably 
not  be  fully  developed  without  them. 

This  transformation  of  the  individual  is  something  de- 
sired and  sought  by  the  individual.  It  comes  as  a  fulfill- 
ment of  impulses  that  are  latent  in  the  social  life,  and  these 
impulses  are  tendencies  to  seek  exalted  states  of  social  feel- 
ing, rather  than  to  perform  specific  social  functions.  War 
is  seized  upon  by  the  social  consciousness,  so  to  speak,  as 
an  opportunity  to  extend  itself  and  become  more  intense, 
and  indeed  in  war  we  see  the  social  consciousness  perform- 
ing a  work  of  genius,  overcoming  apparently  insurmount- 
able obstacles  and  aversions.  Under  such  circumstances, 
social  feeling  becomes  strongly  fortified  against  many  sug- 
gestions that  tend  to  break  it  down.  An  intense  ferocity 
is  directed  toward  any  disloyal  member  of  the  group,  a  fic- 
titious character  may  be  attributed  to  the  enemy,  and  there 
is  an  imaginative  interpretation  of  all  his  acts  in  a  manner 
favorable  to  uniting  the  sentiment  of  the  group.  This  does 
not  appear  to  be  merely  a  defensive  reaction  or  a  result  of 
fear,  but  an  awareness  of  the  precarious  condition  of  the 
social  feeling  itself,  when  it  is  widely  extended.  In  its 
moments  of  most  extreme  and  fanatical  intensity  it  is  likely 
to  be  most  unstable.  It  has  been  said  that  the  surest  way 
to  break  down  social  feeling  is  to  make  it  include  too  much. 
The  conditions  of  war  always  create  that  danger.  Patriot- 
ism is  greatly  intensified,  but  it  is  in  danger  of  collapse. 
The  mild  patriotism  and  yet  secure  cohesion  of  peace  is  re- 
placed by  a  social  consciousness  increased  in  breadth  and 
depth,  but  which  is  liable  also  to  sudden  contraction.  All 
nations  when  at  war  appear  to  be  quite  as  much  afraid  of 
themselves  as  they  are  of  the  enemy.  It  is  in  part  this  sus- 
ceptibility of  social  feeling  to  rapid  and  extreme  variation 
that  makes  patriotism  so  mysterious  a  force.  It  may  be 
extended  in  a  moment  to  unite  supposed  incompatibles.  or 
again  apparently  strongly  cemented  groups  may  fall  into 
disunion.     This  seems  to  be  due  to  the  fact  that  social  feel- 


84  '^'/'<'   I^.'^ychohgy   of  Nations 

ing  is  plastic  and  is  subject  to  control  and  is  a  force  and  not 
merely  an  instinctive  reaction. 

The  fourth  element  of  patriotism  is  devotion  to  leader, 
to  government,  or  to  the  idea  of  state.  Devotion  to  leader 
must  have  been  one  of  the  earliest  forms  of  loyalty.  The 
prestige  of  the  leader  is  acquired  as  the  result  of  any  action 
of  the  group  under  stimuli  that  produce  either  fear  or  anger. 
Just  as  the  necessity  for  strong  action  creates  the  leader  out 
of  average  humanity,  so  continuation  of  this  necessity,  that 
is  the  whole  historical  movement  of  the  life  of  the  group 
such  as  a  nation  continues  to  add  elements  of  prestige  to 
leadership.  The  exaltation  and  typically  to  some  extent 
the  deification  of  the  leader  is  a  natural  consequence  or 
aspect  of  the  dramatic  life  of  the  group.  The  leader  be- 
comes symbolic  of  the  group,  and  of  its  purposes  and  mean- 
ing, so  that  in  devoting  itself  to  a  leader  the  people  do 
more  than  sustain  an  emotional  relation  to  a  superior  per- 
son. They  transfer  their  own  individual  nature,  so  to 
speak,  to  the  leader  so  that  he  becomes  the  essence  or  the 
spirit  of  the  people. 

The  dynasty  is  the  connecting  link  between  the  leader  as 
the  object  of  devotion  of  a  people  and  the  abstract  idea  of 
the  state  as  an  entity.  The  prestige  and  all  the  supernatu- 
ralism  contained  in  the  ideas  of  divine  rights  and  divine 
descent  that  have  become  attached  to  the  idea  of  kings  are 
transferred  to  the  government,  or  extended  to  the  govern- 
ment or  state.  The  illusion  of  superiority  and  remoteness 
is  kept  up  by  various  forms  and  ceremonials.  Becoming 
an  abstract  form,  the  organization  or  the  office  remaining 
while  its  personnel  changes,  the  state  acquires  the  character 
of  a  religious  object.  It  takes  on  the  character  of  the  eter- 
nal, while  still  it  retains  all  the  persuasive  and  suggestive 
qualities  that  belong  to  individuals.  The  idea  of  state  thus 
commands  a  very  high  degree  of  loyalty,  and  is  in  a  sense 
itself  a  product  of  the  feeling  of  loyalty.  Once  established 
the  state  becomes  a  medium  through  which  patriotism  may 


Patriotism,   Nationalism   and  National  Honor      85 

be  subjected  to  control  and  also  be  manipulated  for  politi- 
cal ends.  It  can  be  extended,  transferred,  contracted  ac- 
cording to  what  at  any  time  may  be  subsumed  under  the 
government  that  has  thus  come  to  be  the  central  and  co- 
ordinating factor  in  the  object  of  patriotism. 

Another  element  of  patriotism  appears  in  the  form  of  a 
deep  reaction  of  the  mind  of  the  individual,  usually  under 
the  influence  of  social  stimuli  that  take  the  form  of  artistic 
or  dramatic  situations,  to  the  idea  of  country  as  a  historical 
personage.  This  stimulus  may  be  symbolic  —  the  flag  or 
any  other  emblem  signifying  the  life  or  the  spirit  of  a  coun- 
try; or  it  may  be  concrete,  historic,  a  story,  and  this  story, 
which  is  the  content  of  the  idea  of  country,  is  in  general  a 
narrative  assuming  a  certain  artistic  form  in  which  facts  are 
treated  at  least  selectively,  and  usually  imaginatively.  This 
work  of  portrayal  of  the  life  of  a  nation  by  its  story  is  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously  an  appeal  to  the  will ;  it  is  given 
artistic  rather  than  scientific  form  for  this  reason.  Its  pur- 
pose is  to  present  a  national  spirit,  or  ideal,  or  principle, 
and  also  to  persuade  the  mind  to  become  loyal  to  this  spirit 
of  country. 

All  countries,  as  the  object  of  the  feeling  of  patriotism, 
tend  to  be  personified,  and  it  is  thus  as  a  person  that  coun- 
try commands  the  deepest  loyalty  of  the  individual.  Hence 
the  personified  representation  of  country  whenever  the  will 
of  the  individual  is  appealed  to  most  strongly.  Redier 
(30).  a  French  writer,  illustrates  this  very  clearly  when  he 
pleads  that  the  interest  of  the  motherland  must  be  placed 
first.  It  is  not  for  liberty,  or  for  the  civilization  of  the 
world  that  the  French  are  fighting,  he  says,  but  for  France, 
"  that  most  saintly,  animated  and  tragic  of  figures."  It  is 
by  this  process  of  personification  of  country  that  the  patriot- 
ism of  the  individual  becomes  most  complete.  He  thus  be- 
comes loyal  to  a  living  reality  representing  an  idea,  a  spirit. 
To  defend  the  honor  and  the  integrity  of  this  person,  one  is 
willing  to  sacrifice  everything  that  is  individually  possessed, 


86  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

in  causes  that  can  affect  one  materially  in  no  impijrtant  way. 
The  desire  for  personal  identity  and  immortality  may  be 
transferred  to  country  as  thus  idealized,  and  the  individual 
is  satisiied  to  lose  himself  that  country  may  live.  The  com- 
mon man  realizes  in  a  simple  and  concrete  way,  in  regard  to 
country,  the  Hegelian  conception  of  state  as  the  reality  of 
mind  in  the  world.  About  this  idea  of  country  held  by  the 
truly  patriotic  mind,  as  we  find  it  expressed  in  history  and 
in  literature,  there  grows  up  a  religious  sentiment,  which 
protects  from  criticism  the  qualities  of  the  ideal  personage. 
A  certain  pathos  of  country  attaches  itself  to  all  who  as 
great  individuals  represent  country,  and  to  all  its  portrayals 
and  symbols.  All  these  symbols  acquire  a  high  degree  of 
suggestive  force  because  of  the  depth  of  sentiment  and  the 
richness  of  the  content  of  the  ideas  that  have  produced  them. 

Patriotism,  then,  is  a  very  complex  idea  and  feeling  which 
we  realize  as  love  of  country  —  or,  as  we  might  better  say, 
it  is  an  animation  by  the  idea  of  a  very  complex  object  which 
is  country.  It  is  a  profound  attachment,  rooted  in  the  most 
original  and  essential  relations,  and  appears  to  be  natural 
and  necessary  to  every  normal  mind.  The  individual  con- 
sciousness is  complete  only  by  including  the  attachments,  in 
narrower  and  broader  relations,  to  precisely  the  elements 
that  enter  into  patriotism  —  to  place,  to  the  fundamental 
ways  and  appreciations  of  the  social  surroundings,  to  per- 
sons, to  authority,  to  traditions.  The  composite  effects  of 
these  attachments  may  be  greater  or  smaller,  as  determined 
by  a  totality  of  conditions,  but  the  foundations  of  patriot- 
ism, whatever  its  object,  are  deep  in  consciousness. 

The  presence  and  persistence  of  patriotism  in  the  world 
as  a  deep  and  intense  feeling  raises  questions  that  are  of 
both  theoretical  and  practical  importance.  Here  we  are 
interested  mainly  in  the  relation  of  patriotism  to  war. 
There  is  a  widespread  view  that  may  l3e  expressed  some- 
what as  follows.  Patriotism  and  internationalism  or  cos- 
mopolitanism    are     two     oppositcs.     Patriotism     delimits 


Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     87 

groups,  whether  rightly  or  wrongly,  and  therefore  produces 
antagonism  in  the  world,  and  either  causes  wars  directly  or 
maintains  a  continual  threat  of  wars.  On  the  other  hand 
there  is  cosmopolitanism,  a  very  little  too  much  of  which 
might  destroy  civilization  by  removing  the  inspiration  that 
country  gives.  Patriotism,  standing  for  the  integrity  of 
historic  entities,  makes  the  world  a  world  of  nations  having 
separate  and  conflicting  wills.  Thus  we  have  a  choice  of 
evils  —  between  a  world  of  ardent,  quarrelsome,  but  effi- 
cient groups  and  a  world  in  which  the  chief  motive  of  prog- 
ress, the  vital  principle  of  national  growth,  is  left  out. 

What  is  the  truth  about  this?  What  is  the  relation  of 
patriotism  to  war?  Confusion  and  difference  of  views  are 
likely  to  arise  from  a  failure  to  distinguish  in  the  idea  of 
nationalism  as  a  whole,  between  two  very  different  emo- 
tions and  purposes.  Psychologically,  patriotism  is  a  sum 
of  affections.  As  such,  it  has  a  distinct  character,  consti- 
tutes a  mood,  the  possession  of  which  may  characterize  an 
individual,  and  dominance  by  which  may  be  the  main  fact 
in  life.  As  a  devotion  to  certain  objects,  this  motive  of 
patriotism  enters  into  the  sphere  of  motives  of  war,  but  it 
does  so  mainly,  in  our  view,  as  a  powerful  and  highly  sug- 
gestible energy  which  becomes  aggressive  only  under  the 
stimulus  of  threat  to  its  objects.  Patriotism  is  indeed  tol- 
erant by  nature,  and  one  may  well  doubt  whether  a  genuine 
love  of  country  is  possible  without  a  profound  realization 
of  the  value  of  other  countries  as  objects  of  devotion,  and 
of  the  validity  of  the  patriotism  of  every  group.  True 
patriotism  must  always  be  to  some  extent  devotion  to  pa- 
triotism itself  as  a  progressive  force  in  the  world,  and  it  is, 
therefore,  by  the  very  fact  of  becoming  intense  and  pure, 
a  motive  of  internationalism. 

Such  patriotism  seems  to  be  free  from  most  of  the  delu- 
sions of  greatness  that  affect  national  consciousness.  Its 
mood  is  optimistic  and  its  spirit  tolerant  and  just.  We 
should  say  that,  instead  of  causing  wars,  by  any  initiative  of 


88  The   Psycliolocjy   of  kalians 

its  own,  it  is  itself  caused  by  wars.  It  grows  in  a  medium 
of  defensive  attitudes.  It  may,  of  course,  play  into  the 
hands  of  all  the  aggressive  motives  of  war;  there  are  al- 
ways circumstances  creating  the  illusion  of  danger,  and  it 
is  possible,  even,  that  there  would  be  little  war  if  there  were 
no  patriotism  as  love  of  country  to  support  it.  But  on  the 
other  hand  patriotism  itself  does  not  seem  to  be  a  cause  of 
war.  W'c  should  say,  indeed,  that  patriotism,  to  the  extent 
that  it  becomes  intelligent  and  is  a  devotion  to  an  ideal  of 
countrv,  and  so  is  not  dominated  and  influenced  by  other 
motives  is  a  factor  of  peace  in  the  world,  and  is  moral  in  its 
principles  and  its  nature.  This  is  not  the  place  in  which 
to  speak  of  internationalism  as  an  ideal,  but  we  may  at  least 
observe  how,  conceivably,  patriotism  may  be  cultivated,  be 
greatly  deepened  and  intensified,  while  at  the  same  time 
and  indeed  because  of  this  deepening  of  patriotism  all  inter- 
national causes  are  also  served.  Such  patriotism  may  leave 
us  with  the  danger  of  wars,  since  it  leaves  us  with  a  world 
of  individuals  having  wills  and  self-interests.  But  this 
world,  with  such  a  danger  of  wars,  would  be  better  after 
all  than  a  certain  kind  of  cosmopolitanism  in  a  world  such 
as,  for  example,  might  be  arranged  by  an  unintelligent  so- 
cialism. 

National  Honor 

There  is  another  aspect  of  nationalism,  which  is  psycho- 
logically distinct  from  patriotism  as  love  of  country,  be- 
cause primiti\ely  it  is  based  upon  a  different  motive.  Emo- 
tionally it  is  expressed  finally  as  national  pride,  as  we  use 
the  word  mainly  with  a  derogatory  implication.  Just  as 
patriotic  feeling  is  intensified  and  crystallized  Iw  fear,  and 
is  in  a  sense  an  overcoming  of  fear,  by  devotion,  so  this 
motive  of  pride  rests  upon  a  basis  of  jealousy  and  of  hatred, 
and  is  essentially  a  movement  in  which  display  is  used  to 
obtain  prestige,  to  overcome  opposition  and  to  defend  con- 
sciousness against  a  sense  of  inferiority.     As  a  display  mo- 


Patriotism,  Nationalism   and  National  Honor     89 

tive  it  contains  the  feeling  of  anger,  and  the  impulses  of 
combat,  and  its  relation  to  the  reproductive  motive  is  obvi- 
ous. It  is  as  an  aspect  of  a  deeply  pessimistic  strain  in 
national  life,  as  a  process  in  which  an  original  and  naive 
sense  of  reality  and  superiority,  challenged  and  attacked 
and  brought  into  the  field  of  opposition  and  criticism  and 
thus  negated  by  a  feeling  of  inferiority,  that  this  motive  be- 
comes of  special  interest  to  the  psychology  of  nations  and 
of  war. 

The  roots  of  this  pride  and  honor  process  we  can  find 
in  the  impulses  which  lead  groups  to  demonstrate  power  and 
prowess  to  one  another,  and  in  the  original  feeling  of  reality 
which  is  accompanied  by  the  belief  on  the  part  of  the  group 
that  its  own  ways  are  normal  and  right.  We  might  men- 
tion as  significant  the  widespread  belief  on  the  part  of  very 
primitive  peoples  that  they  alone  are  real  people,  or  are 
the  superior  people  of  the  world.  The  Lapps,  Sumner  (70) 
says,  regard  themselves  as  "  men  "  as  distinguished  from 
all  other  peoples,  a  form  of  self-consciousness  which  lingers 
in  all  such  antitheses  as  Jew  and  Gentile,  Greek  and  bar- 
barian, and  the  like.  This  basic  idea  of  difference  in  reality 
is  not  confined  to  a  few  peoples,  but  there  is  a  tendency  for 
every  group  to  divide  the  world  into  two  parties :  selves  and 
outsiders,  and  this  feeling  of  difference  readily  develops 
into  the  moods  in  which  there  is  a  mystic  sense  on  the  part 
of  a  people  of  being  the  chosen  people,  and  into  those  spe- 
cific theories  of  superiority  that  run  through  the  history  of 
most  if  not  of  all  nations.  It  belongs  to  the  psychology 
of  Greeks,  Romans,  Arabs,  Chinese,  Japanese,  and  also  to 
Americans  as  well  as  Germans ;  and  we  learn  that  Russian 
books  and  newspapers  sometimes  discuss  the  civilizing  mis- 
sion of  Russia. 

That  the  motives  of  display  and  pride  have  been  peculiarly 
active  in  Germany  in  the  last  few  decades  has  been  main- 
tained by  many  writers.  German  writers  are  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  motive  for  the  "  attack  upon  Germany  " 


90  The  I^iycholugy   of  Nations 

was  jealousy  on  the  part  of  her  enemies,  that  Germany  was 
supreme  in  everything  and  other  countries  could  t(jlerate 
this  no  longer.  Germany  has  talked  about  her  virtues,  her 
rank,  her  coming  place  in  the  world.  Bergson  says  that 
Germany's  energy  comes  from  pride.  Some  see  the  source 
of  this  alleged  conceit  of  Germany  and  her  excessive  self- 
consciousness  in  Germany's  hard  experiences  —  the  recent 
slavery,  Germany's  position  as  the  battle  ground  of  Europe, 
her  late  arrival  among  the  great  nations.  Germany  still 
lacks,  they  say,  the  quiet  assurance  that  an  old  culture  gives. 
Some  call  Germany  morbid  and  quarrelsome.  Again  we 
hear  the  pride  of  Germany  called  an  adolescent  phenomenon, 
and  they  say  that  Germany  is  fighting  not  for  principle  but 
to  see  who  is  superior.  Bosanquet  (91)  thinks  that  the 
lack  of  political  liberty  in  Germany  has  had  the  effect  of 
producing  self-consciousness,  and  a  morbid  interest  in  small 
distinctions  of  title  and  rank,  and  that  it  is  thwarted  na- 
tional ambition  that  has  expressed  itself  in  such  writers  as 
Treitschke  and  Bernhardi.  Bourdon  (67)  thinks  Germany 
is  jealous  of  the  culture  and  the  glory  and  the  political  and 
literary  prestige  of  France.  Collier  (68)  says  that  Ger- 
many is  forever  looking  into  a  mirror  rather  than  out  the 
open  window  and  even  sees  herself  a  little  out  of  focus. 
The  seriousness  of  the  Germans,  others  think,  is  an  indi- 
cation that  Germany  takes  herself  too  seriously. 

But  national  vanity,  we  see,  is  certainly  not  confined  to 
Germany.  The  Germans  at  least  think  France  is  highly 
self-conscious,  always  thinking  of  her  dignity,  glory,  pres- 
tige and  of  revenge.  Wundt  (85)  feels  much  the  same 
about  the  English.  He  says  they  always  want  to  be  first 
in  everything,  and  to  dominate  the  earth.  We  know  that 
the  Confederacy  of  the  United  States,  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Civil  War.  appealed  to  the  world  on  the  ground  that  it  had 
reached  the  most  noble  civilization  the  world  had  ever  seen. 
The  Japanese  {72))>  '^ve  have  heard,  believe  that  they  are 
of  divine  descent,  and  that  they  are  supreme  in  manliness. 


Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     91 

loyalty  and  virtue.  Every  nation  presumably  has  some- 
where in  the  back  of  its  mind  a  belief  in  its  own  supremacy 
in  something,  and  has  a  sense  of  being  or  having  something 
that  makes  it  unique  in  the  world. 

We  can  now  see  in  part  how  the  idea  of  national  honor 
arises  out  of  the  pride  of  nations.  Certain  fundamental 
feelings  issue  in  the  form  of  claims  of  superiority  or  su- 
premacy, which  may  be  either  vague  and  unclear  or  very 
definite  and  self-conscious.  This  claim  to  superiority  is 
precisely  what  we  mean  by  national  vanity.  With  this  con- 
sciousness there  goes  a  knowledge  that  these  claims  are  in 
general  not  recognized  by  other  nations,  or  that  the  pres- 
tige which  the  recognition  of  this  superiority  presupposes  is 
at  least  insecure.  Since,  of  course,  these  claims  to  su- 
premacy cannot  all  be  valid,  there  must  be  a  great  amount 
of  inferiority  parading  in  the  world  as  superiority,  many 
fictitious  and  presumably  half-hearted  assumptions  that 
must  not  only  be  defended  against  outsiders,  but  must  also 
be  internally  fortified.  The  pride  and  the  conceit  must  be 
justified  by  the  creation  of  a  fictitious  past,  and  of  an  im- 
possible future.  The  motive  of  these  falsifications  on  the 
part  of  race  consciousness  is  clear.  A  nation  is  defending 
its  claim  to  superiority  by  first  establishing  the  claim  in  its 
own  mind.  These  claims  being  really  unfounded  must  be 
placed  beyond  criticism.  They  must  be  given  a  religious 
form.  But  also  external  forms  and  relations  of  an  artificial 
nature  must  be  established.  Nations  always  hide  behind 
barriers  of  formality.  They  make  displays  to  one  another. 
In  this  way  the  feeling  and  the  appearance  of  superiority 
are  kept  up.  Everything  external  to  the  group  and  not 
participating  in  its  illusion  of  supremacy  must  be  kept  ex- 
ternal to  it.  The  belief  which  the  nation  itself  assumes  in 
regard  to  its  virtue  must  be  demanded  from  all  outsiders 
with  whom  the  nation  has  relations  of  any  kind.  At  least 
the  forms  of  the  recognition  of  the  claim  must  be  insisted 
upon.     This  is  the  principle  of  national  honor.     It  is  a  de- 


92  The  Psychology   of  jXatiuus 

fense  of  certain  ideal  or  fictitious  values  in  which  nations 
insist  that  others  should  recognize  these  claims  and  values. 
National  honor  is  an  artifice  for  defending  a  claim  to  supe- 
riority and  concealing  an  actual  inferiority,  and  it  relates 
to  values  which,  in  general,  do  not  exist.  Its  work  is  con- 
cerned with  the  maintenance  of  prestige. 

These  ideal  values  and  the  integrity  of  the  appearance  of 
supremacy,  are  sustained  by  the  assumption  of  the  forms  of 
empire  or  the  imperialistic  attitude.  Empire  is  indeed  what 
is  dramatized  in  the  forms  which  nations  assume,  and  this 
dramatization  of  imperial  form  is  the  background  of  all 
the  ideas  of  honor.  The  maintenance  of  the  integrity  of 
the  imperial  form,  as  an  ideal  realization  of  the  supremacy 
a  nation  assumes,  becomes  more  important  than  even  the 
securing  of  material  possessions,  for  the  imperial  form  is 
the  very  reality  and  existence  of  the  nation.  It  is  at  bottom 
merely  the  assertion  that  its  own  mores  are  supreme  and 
entitled  to  be  universal.  To  admit  that  this  is  not  so 
would  be  to  become  to  some  extent  unreal,  and  to  lose  some- 
thing essential  to  a  sense  of  personality.  Therefore,  there 
can  be  thus  far  no  intimate  relations  among  nations.  They 
must  present  to  one  another  svmbolic  representations  of 
themselves.  It  is  their  flag,  the  symbol  of  their  place  in 
the  world  and  of  their  military  prowess  and  courage;  their 
ambassadors,  the  representatives  of  their  dignity  and  the 
symbol  of  their  pretended  friendliness;  their  display  of  royal 
forms,  which  is  the  sign  of  their  prestige  and  their  im- 
perial nature,  about  which  they  are  most  sensitive.  Of- 
fenses to  these  symbols  of  what  a  nation  assumes  itself  to 
be  and  demands  that  others  should  think  it,  tend  to  be 
mortal  ofTenses,  because  they  invade  the  sphere  of  what 
nations  hold  to  be  their  reality.  So  the  relations  of  nations 
to  one  another  must,  as  we  say,  always  be  formal.  Nations 
can  allow  no  intimacy.  Why  they  cannot  one  can  readily 
see,  for  it  is  not  difficult  to  detect  the  fear,  the  jealousy, 
and  the  inferiority  motive  behind  all  this  assumption  and 


Palriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     93 

display.  Treitschke  shows  us  what  national  honor  may 
mean  when  it  is  carried  out  into  a  philosophy  of  state. 
Here  is  the  idea  of  national  self-consciousness  at  its  greatest 
height.  The  state  must  not  tolerate  equals,  or  at  least  it 
must  reduce  the  number  of  equals  as  much  as  possible.  The 
state  must  be  absolutely  independent.  The  state,  further- 
more, cannot  have  too  keen  a  sense  of  its  dignity  and  posi- 
tion. A  state  must  declare  war  if  its  flag  is  insulted,  how- 
ever slight  the  circumstances  may  be. 

National  honor,  its  codes  and  standards  and  its  justifica- 
tion and  vindication  by  combat,  present  so  many  resem- 
blances to  the  practice  of  dueling  and  the  idea  of  personal 
honor  once  so  generally  held  by  the  upper  class,  and  still 
existent  where  the  military  spirit  prevails,  that  we  ought 
to  study  the  dueling  code  with  reference  to  the  psychology 
of  war.  There  are  psychological  features  that  appear  to 
be  identical.  The  idea  of  personal  honor  is  associated  with 
a  feeling  of  superiority  that  must  be  defended.  Any  of- 
fense or  affront  to  the  individual  was  a  mortal  offense. 
The  superiority  in  question  was  first  of  all  superiority  of 
ancestry ;  it  was  this  that  constituted  the  value  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  set  the  standards  that  he  must  maintain.  This 
superiority  was  to  be  judged  not  so  much  by  conduct  as  by 
an  assertion  of  it  represented  by  certain  external  forms. 
The  individual  by  his  manners  declared  himself  a  gentle- 
man, and  laid  claim  to  forms  and  considerations  that  must 
not  be  omitted  in  relations  with  him.  The  virtues  he  de- 
fended so  rigorously  did  not  exist  as  a  rule  in  calculable 
or  practical  form,  since  they  did  nothing  objective.  They 
might  be  ornamental  or  purely  fictitious.  They  existed  in 
the  form  of  claims,  and  the  values  assigned  to  them  were 
arbitrary.  The  man  declared  himself  possessed  of  supe- 
riority, and  was  ready  uniformly  to  prove  this  claim  by  acts 
purporting  to  indicate  willingness  to  die. 

This  code  and  belief  belonged  to  a  day  when  relations 
among  individuals  were  simple  and,  so  to  speak,  external. 


94  ^'/*^'  Psychology   of  Nations 

They  were  relations  that  were  readily  codified  and  made 
invariable,  since  they  had  no  essential  practical  content  or 
function.  Manners  were  significant  as  substitutes  for 
friendly  relations,  since  the  system  was  lacking  in  moral 
and  social  sentiments.  Manners  were  a  means  of  fitting 
together  individuals  who  really  belonged  to  no  functioning 
whole,  except  when,  for  example,  they  might  be  united  in 
military  exploits.  Everything  was  unitary  and  independent 
of  everything  else  in  this  society. 

Now  this  code  and  this  philosophy  of  life  have  declined 
precisely  to  the  extent  that  the  conception  of  ideal  human 
life  has  changed,  from  that  of  something  ornamental  and 
personal  to  that  of  something  useful  and  moral.  Life  has 
become  organized,  and  relations  have  become  more  practi- 
cal, so  that  the  values  of  conduct  may  now  be  estimated,  and 
one  no  longer  may  maintain  a  claim  to  virtue  based  upon 
forms  expressing  intangible  or  subjective  or  unreal  virtues. 
The  virtues  of  a  man  in  a  democratic  society  are,  indeed, 
more  or  less  obvious  and  open.  Pride  of  family,  an  orna- 
mental mode  of  life,  and  a  scorn  of  death  are  no  longer 
necessary  and  sufficient  guarantees  of  worth.  Evidence  of 
value  is  both  possible  and  required ;  before  value  is  admitted 
it  must  be  shown.  Self-defense  in  a  legal  and  moral  so- 
ciety are  in  the  main  superfluous,  and  the  values  of  indi- 
viduals are  so  changed  that  to  justify  them  by  the  duel  would 
seem  out  of  place.  Its  service  being  to  defend  artificial  or 
arbitrary  claims  to  distinction,  it  ceases  or  it  falls  into  disuse 
when  the  individual's  reality  and  value  come  to  depend  upon 
his  functional  place  in  society.  It  would  be  highly  illogical 
to  put  to  test  social  values  by  a  process  that  appears  to  have 
nothing  but  anti-social  elements  in  it. 

That  nations  exhibit  the  same  type  of  relation  toward 
one  another  that  we  find  in  dueling  and  its  code  seems  to 
be  clear,  although  we  must  always  avoid  pressing  any  anal- 
ogy between  individual  and  nation  too  far.  A  claim  to 
superiority  that  is  deep  and  irrational,  and  which  appears  on 


Patriotism,  Nationalism  and  National  Honor     95 

the  surface  as  sensitiveness  in  regard  to  honor  and  vanity, 
keeps  nations  always  in  defensive  attitudes,  quite  apart  from 
the  actual  fear  of  aggression.  This  superficiality  or  at  least 
externality  of  relations  is  the  source  of  actual  conflict.  The 
forms  employed  to  maintain  these  relations  are  obviously 
ornamental,  are  elaborations  of  the  forms  of  courtesy  among 
individuals,  are  little  dramas  of  friendship,  so  to  speak, 
little  plays  representing  friendliness,  while  the  diplomatic 
motives  are  simply  to  obtain  everything  possible,  each  na- 
tion for  itself,  without  w^ar,  and  to  maintain  prestige. 
These  relations  are  substitutes  for  social  feelings  that  do  not 
exist.  Generally  speaking,  nations  are  never  friends. 
They  never  really  share  in  anything.  They  are  all  highly 
conscious  of  their  own  prestige  and  dignity,  and  they  al- 
ways communicate  wuth  one  another  in  a  formal  way.  In 
it  all,  we  see  the  signs  of  emotions  and  habits  that  extend 
far  back  to  the  beginnings  of  social  life  and  indeed  into 
animal  life.  The  display  which  takes  the  form  of  social 
relations  among  nations,  represented  well  by  uniformed 
diplomats,  is  so  plainly  archaic  and  its  real  meaning  so  obvi- 
ous that  we  can  hardly  fail  to  understand  what  it  is  all  about. 
That  the  attitude  is  really  defensive,  and  the  purpose  to 
keep  up  appearances  before  strangers,  so  to  speak,  can 
hardly  be  doubted. 

The  fact  that  these  questions  of  national  honor  are  in 
some  respects  detached  from  the  main  realities  of  political 
relations,  and  are,  indeed,  fictitious  and  exist  in  the  re- 
gion of  the  imagination,  that  they  pertain  to  the  conven- 
tional and  ornamental  sides  of  national  life,  might  be  sup- 
posed to  indicate  that  they  could  easily  be  done  away  with, 
and  all  these  fertile  causes  of  war  be  eliminated.  That  must 
not  be  assumed.  Vanity  has  deep  roots.  The  ornamental 
in  life  symbolizes  the  real.  It  is  the  point  of  entrance  to 
the  deepest  motives.  Conventional  and  archaic  forms  do 
not  die  out,  just  because  we  discover  that  they  are  irrational 
and  harmful,  and  the  causes  they  serve  seem  to  us  to  be 


g6  The   Psyiholoyy   of  Nations 

unreal.  This  kind  of  unreality  in  ihc  consciousness  of  na- 
tions is  in  fact  the  ideal  for  which  nations  live.  Nations 
play  at  being  great,  and  fight  to  defend  their  prestige  —  but 
this  play,  as  we  know,  is  oftentimes  terribly  real. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  CAUSES  "    AS    PRINCIPLES    AND    ISSUES    IN    WAR 

The  causes  for  which  wars  are  fought,  or  which  are  as- 
serted to  be  the  causes,  make  one  of  the  important  psycho- 
logical problems  of  war.  Sometimes  these  causes  are  elu- 
sive, sometimes  they  may  give  occasion  for  cynicism  and 
a  pessimistic  view  of  national  morals;  again  we  see  self- 
deception,  again  ideals  seeking  for  light,  peoples  trying 
to  find  something  to  live  for  or  to  die  for.  We  see  in  the 
recent  great  war  as  in  other  wars,  a  great  variety  of  causes 
for  which  men  are  said  to  be  fighting.  Some  would  say 
that  the  war  was  entirely  a  war  of  principles;  some  take  a 
purely  political  point  of  view  and  say  that  principles  are  not 
involved  at  all,  and  others  that  nothing  was  displayed  at  all 
of  motives  except  primitive  passions  which  are  equally  de- 
void of  moral  issues  or  any  principles. 

It  would  be  interesting  from  the  psychological  point  of 
view  to  make,  if  possible,  a  complete  collection  and  classi- 
fication of  the  causes  that  ha\'e  been  brought  forward  as 
the  fundamental  things  fought  for  in  the  late  war.  Many 
widely  different  and  divergent  views  are  held.  The  forms 
in  which  the  issues  of  the  war  have  been  stated  are  almost 
innumerable.  New  definitions  and  new  statements  of  old 
conventional  ideas  appear  continuously.  Every  writer 
seems  to  see  the  war  from  a  different  point  of  view  from 
all  others.  Eventually,  we  may  suppose,  all  this  will  be 
clear,  since  these  "  causes  "  of  the  war  will  be  one  of  the 
great  themes  of  future  philosophical  history.  At  present 
we  can  only  formulate  such  a  view  as  may  be  suggestive 

97 


98  The  Psychulugy   of  Nations 

with  reference  to  general  interpretations  of  the  place  of 
princii)le.s  and  causes  in  war. 

Let  us  examine  a  few  of  the  opinions  about  the  issues 
fought  for  in  the  recent  war.  MacFall  (56)  says  that  the 
whole  strategy  of  the  civilized  world  is  bent  upon  creating 
permanent  peace.  Many  speak  of  the  war  as  a  war  to  over- 
come w-ar;  we  are  told  that  one  of  the  most  conscious  mo- 
tives of  the  soldiers  in  the  field  has  been  to  make  the  great 
war  the  last  war  the  world  should  ever  see.  Something  of 
the  same  idea  is  involved  in  the  view  each  nation  has  that 
it  was  attacked,  and  that  the  purpose  of  the  war  was  to 
defeat  and  punish  aggressors.  Apparently  every  nation 
and  every  army  engaged  in  the  war  has  had  the  feeling  that 
it  was  fighting  in  the  interests  of  world  peace. 

The  German  explanations  of  the  war  and  of  its  issues 
have  been  very  numerous  and  widely  varied.  The  German 
has  had  his  own  interpretation  of  the  "  white  man's  bur- 
den." Tower  (57)  calls  attention  to  the  German  hybrid 
word  "  Sahibthum,''  expressing  the  mission  of  a  people. 
Each  nation  has  its  essence,  which  becomes  a  deep  impulse. 
The  German's  impulse  is  translatable  in  the  words  "  Be 
organized.''  The  German  has  been  eager  to  organize  the 
w^orld.  He  believed  in  all  seriousness  that  he  was  fighting 
the  fight  of  order  against  chaos.  It  was  the  fight  of  the 
spirit  against  that  which  is  dead  and  inefficient.  The  Ger- 
man believed  that  the  systematic  exploitation  of  the  world 
w-as  his  peculiar  mission.  Ostwald  is  the  great  apostle  of 
this  view.  He  said  that  the  war  was  a  battle  of  the  higher 
life  against  the  lower  instincts.  Germany  represents  Euro- 
pean civilization.  The  German  emperor  said  that  Germany 
should  do  for  Europe  what  Prussia  had  done  for  Germany 
—  organize  it.  In  the  German  philosophy  of  life  this  prin- 
ciple of  order  had  become  a  serious  principle.  An  ineffi- 
cient and  disorderly  world  had  need  of  Germany.  Every- 
where there  was  waste  and  stupidity,  and  a  want  of  reason 
in  the  world.     System  was  to  be  the  cure.     The  fundamen- 


*'  Causes  "  as  Principles  and  Issues  in  War      99 

tal  fault  in  all  this  disorder  the  German  mind  recognized  as 
an  excessive  individualism.  Individual  instinct  and  the 
social  order  were  in  eternal  conflict,  as  Dietzel  expressed 
the  issue,  and  Germany  stood  for  the  social  order,  for  rea- 
son, since  reason  is  precisely  the  denial  of  the  instincts  and 
the  desires  of  the  individual  in  the  interest  of  a  foreseen 
result. 

Shortly  after  the  beginning  of  the  war,  we  remember,  a 
manifesto  appeared  signed  by  three  thousand  German  uni- 
versity professors  and  other  teachers,  saying  that  they,  the 
signers,  firmly  believed  that  the  salvation  of  the  whole  of 
European  civilization  depended  upon  the  victory  of  German 
militarism.  Hintze  (49)  said  that  Germany  was  fighting 
for  the  freedom  of  everybody,  meaning  presumably  accord- 
ing to  the  German  principle  that  freedom  consists  in  volun- 
tarily submitting  to  order.  This  freedom  is  also  in  Hintze's 
view  a  principle  of  freedom  and  equal  rights  for  all  nations, 
in  so  far  as  these  nations  have  reached  the  necessary  stage 
of  civilization.  The  mission  of  the  coming  central  manage- 
ment of  mankind  (Menschheit^entralverwaltung)  implied  in 
the  most  ideal  theory  of  Germany's  mission  is  the  true  Ger- 
man burden.  Haeckel  says  that  the  work  of  the  German 
people  to  assure  and  develop  civilization  gives  Germany  the 
right  to  occupy  the  Balkans,  Asia  Minor,  Syria,  and  Meso- 
potamia, and  to  exclude  from  those  countries  the  races  that 
occupy  them.  Schellendorf  says  that  Germany  must  not 
forget  her  civilizing  task,  which  is  to  become  the  nucleus 
of  a  future  empire  of  the  west.  Koenig  says  that  the  spir- 
itual life  of  Europe  is  at  stake,  Germany's  fight  is  the  fight 
of  civilization  against  barbarism  —  against  Russian  bar- 
barism he  means.  This  ought  to  be  the  cause  of  all  West- 
ern Europe,  but  England  and  France  have  betrayed  the 
western  civilization  into  the  hands  of  the  East.  This  belief 
gave  to  Germany's  cause  a  deep  impulsion  (12). 

Another  way  in  which  Germany's  cause  was  frequently 
stated  was  that  Germany  was  a  pure,  virile  and  young  race 


loo  The   Psyc  holuc/y   uf  Nations 

which  was  fighting  the  older  civiHzations  of  the  world. 
Vigor  was  assured  of  victory  in  any  case,  but  young  life 
had  a  duty  to  perform  —  that  of  clearing  the  way  for  new 
growth.  This  has  found  numerous  forms  of  expression 
among  German  writers,  some  of  them  highly  dramatic  and 
exaggerated;  as,  for  example,  that  the  human  race  is  di- 
vided into  tw^o  species  or  kinds,  the  male  and  the  femalei 
assuming  that  the  German  is  the  male  among  the  national 
spirits. 

With  these  views  of  the  nature  of  the  German  ideal  or 
cause  there  have  gone,  of  course,  interpretations  of  the 
conscious  motives  and  principles  of  other  nations.  In  gen- 
eral other  nations  had  no  principle.  German  writers  have 
tended  to  believe  that  both  England  and  America  were 
hypocritical  and  that  their  pretended  democratic  cause  was 
at  heart  only  party  and  political  aspiration.  These  nations, 
they  said,  claimed  to  desire  the  world  to  enjoy  the  rights  of 
democracy,  but  each  country  assumed  that  it  itself  must  be 
the  controller  of  that  democratic  principle.  Another  fre- 
quently expressed  view  of  the  purposes  of  England  and 
America  is  that  they  have  purely  sordid  interests,  that  they 
are  capable  of  fighting  only  for  advantage  and  material  gain. 

Many  of  these  German  views  of  the  war  imply  a  principle 
that  runs  through  many  fields  of  German  thought  —  that 
values  are  something  to  be  determined  objectively.  It  is  a 
scientific  principle.  Its  conclusions  rest  upon  proof,  rather 
than  upon  subjective  principles  of  valuation.  There  is 
another  argument  which  is  in  part  based  upon  an  interpre- 
tation of  scientific  principles,  but  is  in  part  also  a  fatalistic 
doctrine  —  confidence  in  the  issues  of  battle  as  a  means  of 
testing  the  right  and  the  validity  of  culture.  The  right 
will  prevail,  on  this  theory,  because  the  right  is  the  stronger 
or  because  in  some  sense  strength  is  the  right,  and  because 
the  method  of  selection  of  the  best  by  struggle  is  a  basic 
principle,  and  may  be  applied  to  everything  that  is  living  or 
is  a  product  of  life. 


*' Causes"  as  Principles  and  Issues  in  JVar      loi 

If  the  German  interpretation  of  the  German  cause  has 
been  dominated  by  an  ideal  of  objective  proof,  we  hear  on 
the  other  side  much  about  subjective  rights  and  subjective 
evaluations  —  the  right,  for  example,  of  every  people  to  de- 
termine its  own  life,  to  have  its  own  culture,  to  decide  upon 
its  own  nationality.  The  Allies  have  believed  that  they 
were  fighting  to  establish  this  principle  throughout  the 
world,  and  that  this  principle  is  diametrically  opposed  to 
the  German  principle.  The  thought  of  centralization,  of  a 
hierarchy  of  nations  and  the  like,  is  wholly  foreign  to  this 
democratic  principle.  Bergson  (17)  finds  in  the  idea  of  in- 
dustry the  cause  of  the  war  and  the  principle  of  opposition 
in  it.  The  Allies,  he  says,  have  been  fighting  against  ma- 
terialism with  the  forces  of  the  spirit.  Germany's  forces 
are  material.  A  mechanism  is  fighting  against  a  self-re- 
newing spirit.  The  ideal  of  force  is  met  by  the  force  of 
the  ideal. 

Boutroux  (13)  says  that  France,  in  the  war,  has  had 
before  her  eyes  the  idea  of  humanity;  France  was  fighting 
for  the  recognition  of  the  rights  of  personality  —  rights  of 
each  nation  to  its  own  existence.  France  is  a  champion  of 
freedom ;  she  wants  all  the  legitimate  aspirations  of  peoples 
to  be  realized.  Germanism,  with  its  ideal  of  force,  is  con- 
trasted with  the  ideal  of  Greek  and  Christian  culture  and 
philosophy.  A  cult  of  justice  and  modesty  is  contrasted 
with  the  cult  of  power;  in  the  former,  sentiment  and  feeling 
have  a  place  as  criteria  of  values ;  in  the  latter  the  appeal 
is  to  science  and  to  reason. 

Hobhouse  (34)  says  that  the  war  is  a  conflict  of  the 
spirit  of  the  West  against  the  spirit  of  the  East  (precisely 
the  same  as  the  German  view,  we  see,  but  with  a  very  dif- 
ferent identification  of  the  champions).  Germany  has 
never  felt  the  spirit  of  the  West.  The  war  is  for  some- 
thing far  deeper  than  national  freedom ;  it  is  a  war  to  justify 
the  primary  rules  of  right.  Burnet  (18)  thinks  that  the 
great  conflict  was  a  conflict  between  Kultur  as  nationalistic, 


I02  llic   Psychology   of  Nations 

and  luinianism  as  something  international  —  that  Germany, 
in  recent  years,  had  abandoned  an  ideal  of  culture  for  that 
of  specialization  in  the  service  of  the  State.  I'^nglanrl's  an- 
swer to  the  call  was  not  to  the  specific  need  and  appeal  of 
Belgium,  but  because  England  felt  that  there  was  something 
in  Germany  incompatible  with  Western  civilization. 

Le  Bon  (42)  says  that  we  must  always  remember  that  the 
Teuton  is  the  irreconcilable  enemy  of  the  civilization  of  the 
French  and  of  all  it  stands  for,  and  that  he  must  always 
be  kept  at  a  distance.  Durkheim's  view  is  that  Germany's 
ambition  and  energy  and  will  antagonize  the  freedom  of  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  felt  this  and 
the  war  was  the  consequence.  Dillon  (55)  says  that  the 
future  for  which  Germany  has  been  striving  is  a  future 
incompatible  with  those  ideals  which  our  race  cherishes  and 
reveres,  and  that  we  must  make  a  definite  choice  between 
our  philosophy  and  religion  and  our  code  on  one  side  and 
those  of  the  German  on  the  other.  Drawbridge  (19)  says 
that  the  war  has  been  a  conflict  between  the  ideals  of  gen- 
tleness and  tact,  on  one  side,  and  of  brutality  and  ruthless- 
ness  on  the  other.  It  is  the  Christian  spirit  against  the 
Nietzschean. 

Again  we  have  been  told  that  the  war  was  simply  a  war 
of  autocracy  against  democracy,  of  medisevalism  against 
modern  life,  of  progress  against  stagnation,  of  militarism 
and  war  against  peace,  of  the  Napoleonic  against  the  Chris- 
tian spirit.  Occasionally  we  hear  more  personal  and  sub- 
jective notes.  Redier  (30)  says  that  France  was  fighting 
solely  to  retain  mastery  of  her  own  genius,  in  order  to  draw 
from  it  noble  joys  and  just  profits. 

The  American  point  of  view  has  been  expressed  in  sev- 
eral forms  by  the  President  of  the  United  States.  For 
example,  he  has  said  that  we  are  one  of  the  champions  of 
the  rights  of  mankind.  The  world  must  be  made  safe  for 
democracy.  And  again,  that  America  is  fighting  for  no 
selfish  purpose,  but  for  the  liberation  of  peoples  everywhere 


"  Causes  ''  as  Principles  and  Issues  in   War      103 

from  the  aggression  of  autocratic  powers.  This  view  that 
the  war  was  remedial,  that  it  was  in  the  interest  of  prog- 
ress, to  prevent  that  which  is  belated  in  civilization  from 
gaining  the  upper  hand,  and  that  it  is  on  the  part  of  Amer- 
ica a  war  of  participation  and  aid  in  a  cause  which  though 
supremely  good  might  otherwise  be  lost,  is  the  prevailing 
idea.  That  this  spirit  of  the  championship  of  causes  and 
of  justice  to  other  nations  is  a  stronger  motive  in  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  peoples  than  in  others  appears  to  be  an  opinion  that 
history  on  the  whole  can  confirm. 

It  is  relatively  easy  to  obtain  the  opinion  of  philosophers 
about  the  "  causes  "  represented  in  the  war;  it  would  be  of 
interest  also  to  know  what  the  millions  of  men  in  the  field 
think.  Data  are  not  altogether  wanting,  but  there  appear 
to  be  no  general  studies.  That  many  men,  in  more  than 
one  army,  have  no  clear  knowledge  of  any  cause  for  which 
they  have  fought,  except  as  these  causes  are  nationalistic 
is  certain.  That  there  is  ignorance  even  among  the  men 
of  our  own  army  in  regard  to  the  causes  and  purposes  of 
the  war  has  been  made  evident.  Knowledge  and  enlighten- 
ment can  hardly  have  been  greater  elsewhere.  German  sol- 
diers are  credited  with  believing  that  they  are  defending 
Germany  from  attack.  The  French  soldier  was  fighting 
for  France.  The  invasion  of  his  country  left  him  no  doubt 
and  no  choice.  The  English  soldier  has  often  said  that 
he  was  doing  it  for  the  women  and  the  children,  and  one 
writer  says  that  the  deepest  motive  of  two  thirds  of  the 
British  army  was  to  make  this  war  the  last.  The  American 
soldier,  from  the  nature  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
he  himself  entered  the  war  has  been  more  conscious  of  a 
motive  of  helpfulness  and  of  comradeship  with  other  peo- 
ples who  are  in  distress  and  danger.  Probably  the  idea  of 
America's  honor,  and  the  more  abstract  idea  still  of  the 
cause  of  freedom,  even  though  this  idea  has  been,  so  to 
speak,  our  watchword,  have  not  been  the  most  influential  mo- 
tives in  the  mind  of  the  individual.     Germany  was  attack- 


I04  The   Psyclwloyy   of   .\  at  ions 

\n^  people  who  were  in  distress,  and  the  American  soldier 
ueiu  over  to  make  the  scales  turn  in  the  direclitjn  of  victory 
for  the  oppressed. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  literature  of  the  war  produced  by 
the  soldier  in  the  field,  in  which  there  are  expressed  high 
ideals,  abstract  conceptions  and  firm  principles.  The 
I'rcnch  soldier  has  written  about  liberty,  the  German  soldier 
has  had  considerable  to  say  about  a  Kultur  war.  An  Amer- 
ican volunteer  in  the  British  army  has  written.  "  I  find  my- 
self among  the  millions  of  others  in  the  great  allied  armies 
fighting  for  all  I  believe  right  and  civilized  and  humane 
against  a  power  which  is  evil  and  which  threatens  the  exist- 
ence of  all  the  right  we  prize  and  the  freedom  we  en- 
joy "  (24).  But  in  general  the  consciousness  of  the  sol- 
dier, from  all  the  evidence  we  have,  was  concerned,  as  pre- 
sumably was  that  of  most  of  us,  mainly  with  the  most  obvi- 
ous qualities  of  opposing  forces,  their  concrete  actions,  and 
the  personal  motives  of  rulers. 

Leaving  aside  so  far  as  one  can  one's  own  partisanship 
and  mores  (which  is  not  a  very  easy  task),  what  causes  can 
we  say,  with  a  considerable  degree  of  certainty,  have  actually 
been  issues  in  the  present  war?  To  some  extent  what  one 
thinks  these  causes  are  will  remain  matters  of  personal 
opinion  and  preference.  Are  there  also  principles  which, 
when  once  observed,  will  be  accepted  as  the  fundamental 
"causes"  of  the  war?  There  seem  to  be  three  at  least 
which  characterize  wide  differences  in  the  ideals  and  the 
civilization  of  the  opposing  forces. 

There  is,  first  of  all,  an  issue  between  the  ideals  of  a  rela- 
tively autocratic  form  of  government  and  a  relatively  more 
democratic  form  of  government.  This  w^as  a  cause  of  the 
intellectuals,  but  it  was  also  a  popular  cause.  Men  in  gen- 
eral like  the  form  of  government  under  which  they  live. 
From  the  standpoint  of  those  who  hold  that  a  democratic 
form  of  gfovernment  is  right,  the  war  seemed  to  be  a  con- 
t^ict  between  a  modern  and  progressive  regime  and  an  old 


^'Causes"  as  Principles  and  Issues  in  JVcr      105 

and  vicious  one.  So  far  as  this  autocratic  principle  aimed 
to  suppress  the  rights  of  individuals,  or  to  menace  the  liber- 
ties of  small  nations,  so  far  as  it  was  aggressively  mili- 
taristic and  had  imperial  ambitions,  which  could  be  achieved 
only  by  force,  it  stood  clearly  opposed  to  democracy.  De- 
mocracy and  autocracy  were  plainly  at  war  with  one  an- 
other, and  yet  if  we  look  closely  we  shall  see  that  neither 
one  can  offer  any  actual  demonstration  of  its  validity  as  the 
most  superior  or  the  final  form  of  government.  In  part 
they  may  appeal  to  the  observable  course  of  history  for 
their  justification,  but  the  final  source  of  judgment  seems  to 
rest  in  the  mass  of  opinion  in  the  world.  Questions  of 
form  and  taste  are  not  wholly  absent.  But  the  believer  in 
democracy  and  the  believer  in  autocracy  will  both  assert 
that  deep  differences  in  principle  are  involved.  They  will 
not  admit  that  democracy  and  autocracy  are  superficial 
forms,  and  are  questions  of  taste,  and  they  will  not  agree 
with  Munsterberg,  who  says  that  the  two  forms  tend  in- 
evitably toward  a  compromise,  by  a  pro'cess  of  alternation 
in  which  first  one  and  then  the  other  is  the  dominant  form 
in  the  world. 

The  war,  in  another  aspect  of  it,  has  been  a  conflict  be- 
tween the  idea  of  nationalism  and  that  of  internationalism. 
It  is  a  conflict  between  an  ideal  of  state,  represented  in  the 
German  philosophy  of  state  by  the  principle  of  complete 
autonomy  of  the  individual  nation,  and  one  which  assumes 
that  states,  while  retaining  their  rights  of  sovereignty  are  to 
be  governed  by  laws  which  regulate  their  conduct  as  func- 
tioning members  of  a  society  of  nations.  The  difference 
is  that,  relatively,  between  a  state  of  anarchy  among  nations 
and  a  state  of  order.  To  some  extent  there  has  been  a  con- 
flict between  the  idea  of  rights  and  the  idea  of  duties  of 
nations.  This  internationalism  is  not  merely  a  sociological 
principle,  something  academic  and  scientific,  as  a  theory  of 
state  or  society;  it  is  an  ethical  principle,  which  contains 
some  recognition  of  justice  as  a  subjective  principle.     It 


io6  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

has  some  roots  in  theory,  but  it  is  also  based  upon  the  imme- 
diate recognition  of  the  rights  of  peoples  to  their  own  indi- 
vidual lives.  Its  ideal  is  a  world  containing  many  nations, 
coordinated  by  natural  processes  and  not  a  world  in  which 
a  single  nation  or  a  few  may  hold  the  supreme  place,  ex- 
cept as  this  supremacy  might  come  by  a  process  of  natural 
development. 

The  third  conflict  of  the  war  was  one  which  we  may  call 
a  psychological  conflict.  It  was  a  conflict  between  two 
ideas  of  life,  one  based  upon  a  belief  in  the  supremacy  of 
reason,  the  other  implying  that  the  final  test  of  values  in 
life  remains  in  the  sphere  of  the  feelings,  or  is  a  matter  of 
appreciation.  Germany,  in  her  recent  history,  has  stood 
conspicuously  for  the  belief  that  human  society  may  and 
indeed  must  be  controlled  and  regulated  by  definite  princi- 
ples —  principles  that  must  be  determined  according  to  the 
methods  of  science.  These  principles  take  the  place,  in  this 
philosophy  of  life,  of  certain  typical  human  reactions  that 
are  believed  to  be  demonstrably  irrational.  In  its  visible 
and  most  practical  form  the  application  of  this  principle  is 
through  organization. 

This  characterization  of  German  life  reveals  something 
very  much  like  a  paradox  in  the  principles  of  the  war.  We 
see  a  conflict  in  one  direction  between  a  certain  medi?evalism 
in  government  and  social  forms  and  a  more  modern  and 
progressive  type;  we  see  also  a  conflict  of  a  modernism  of 
an  extreme  form,  represented  by  a  scientific  civilization, 
united  with  this  medisevalism,  and  in  opposition  to  a  con- 
ception of  life  which  is  in  some  respects  more  naive  and 
more  primitive.  The  explanation  of  this  paradox  is  that 
Germany  offers  an  illustration  of  a  phenomenon  of  develop- 
ment that  has  been  seen  before  in  history,  of  an  excess  of  de- 
velopment and  specialization  in  a  direction  that  appears 
to  be  off  the  main  line  of  progress,  or  at  least  is  an 
anachronism.  Germany  has  shown  us  the  effects  of  ra- 
tionalism,  some   would   say   a   morbid   and   hypertrophied 


^^  Causes  "  as  Principles  and  Issues  in  War     107 

reason.  This  rationalism  is  certainly  in  part  a  product  of 
systematic  education  and  propaganda,  a  conscious  exploita- 
tion of  science,  and  it  is  in  part  temperamental.  Such  a 
result  is  always  possible  in  a  small  state  with  a  highly  cen- 
tralized form  of  government.  It  is  a  notorious  fact  that 
Germany's  type  of  civilization  can  be  spread  neither  by 
persuasion  nor  by  force.  If  we  may  apply  a  biological 
analogy  we  may  say  that  German  Kultur  in  its  modern  form 
cannot  survive.  That  this  German  civilization  has  been  felt 
by  the  world  at  large  to  be  abnormal  and  of  the  nature  of  a 
monstrosity  we  can  hardly  doubt,  and  that  therefore  to  some 
extent  there  has  been  a  sense,  on  the  part  of  the  enemies  of 
Germany,  of  fighting  to  root  out  a  dangerous  and  rank 
growth.  Germany,  seeing  in  her  own  civilization  only  the 
appearance  of  modernism,  has  been  inclined  to  regard  all 
other  civilizations  as  decadent. 

Germany,  governed  by  the  ideals  of  rationalism,  has  as- 
sumed that  history  can  be  made,  wars  conducted,  life  regu- 
lated in  accordance  with  a  program.  On  the  other  side 
we  see  a  very  general  acceptance  of  a  philosophy  of  life 
in  which  many  evils  of  disorder  and  waste  and  the  necessity 
of  an  experimental  attitude  toward  life  are  accepted  as  nec- 
essary consequences  of  the  life  of  freedom.  We  see  implied 
in  this  philosophy  of  life  a  belief  in  a  morality  and  a  reli- 
gion that  are  based  upon  feeling  rather  than  upon  objective 
evidences,  and  a  way  of  judging  conduct  more  or  less  naively 
and  simply  or  according  to  methods  of  appreciation  that  are 
essentially  aesthetic,  using  the  term  in  a  wide  sense.  This 
mode  of  life  is  accepted  in  the  belief  that  order  in  due  sea- 
son will  come  out  of  relative  disorder,  by  a  natural  process 
or  by  a  gradually  increasing  organization  and  voluntary 
adjustment.  If  we  accept  the  validity  of  this  attitude  in 
life  we  shall  be  inclined  to  regard  rationalism  as  it  is  mani- 
fested to-day  in  German  life  as  an  evil.  We  may  believe 
that  in  the  end  the  cure  for  this  rationalism  will  not  be  less 
reason  but  rather  more,  but  we  shall  see  also  that  it  is  pos- 


I08  Ihc   l\syili()l()(jy   (jf  Nations 

sible  for  reason  to  outstrip  and  pervert  life,  and  indeed  in- 
volve life  in  an  absurdity,  simply  because  as  a  method  of 
dealing  with  the  whole  of  life  it  cannot  be  sufficiently  com- 
prehensive. 

Are  these  and  all  such  issues  that  we  find  in  war,  causes 
of  war?  Do  nations  fight  for  principles?  Opinions  cer- 
tainly differ  on  this  point.  Some  think  of  wars,  we  say, 
as  essentially  conflicts  of  principles;  some  interpret  wars 
wholly  in  terms  of  political  issues.  We  should  say  that 
the  truth  lies  between  these  assertions  or  is  the  sum  of  their 
half-truths.  Wars  are  not  in  their  origin  wars  of  princi- 
ple. The  political,  the  personal,  the  concrete  aspects  of  the 
relations  of  nations  are  always  in  the  foreground  in  causing 
wars.  Wars  become  wars  of  principle  after  they  have  been 
begun  for  other  reasons.  Sanctions  and  motives  appear 
after  the  fact.  Fundamental  differences  of  mores  which 
include  the  raw  material,  so  to  speak,  of  principles  and 
causes  are  factors  in  wars  in  so  far  as  they  create  misunder- 
standing and  antipathy,  but  in  so  far  as  these  differences  of 
nature  and  of  principle  do  not  enter  into  the  sphere  of 
politics  and  of  national  honor,  they  do  not  as  such  cause 
wars.  Those  deep  moods  w-hich  accumulate  in  the  minds 
of  peoples  and  enter  into  the  causes  of  war  are  not  convic- 
tions about  principles.  They  are  more  generic  and  natural. 
History  does  not  seem  to  show  us  wars  caused  by  pure 
principles.  We  sometimes  say  that  the  Civil  War  in  our 
own  country  was  fought  over  a  principle,  but  that  is  some- 
thing less  than  the  truth.  The  fundamental  question  at 
issue  was  plainly  that  of  the  rights  of  certain  states  at  a 
particular  time  to  be  independent  and  free. 

Principles  emerge  in  Avar,  we  say,  and  then  they  become 
secondary  causes.  And  it  is  precisely  this  emergence  of 
principles  from  fields  of  battle  that  perhaps  constitutes  the 
greatest  contribution  of  wars  to  the  civilization  of  the 
world.  We  need  to  reflect  upon  this  deeply,  since  the  whole 
philosophy  of  history  is  concerned  in  it.     The  virtues  that 


'^  Causes  "   as  Principles  and  Issues  in  War      109 

nations  discover  in  themselves  in  war  they  elaborate  in 
peace.  Nations  at  war  become  conscious  of  their  spiritual 
possessions.  Since  their  existence,  they  believe,  is  at  stake, 
it  is  a  part  of  their  self-defense  to  justify  their  value  in  the 
world.  They  discover  in  themselves  that  which  is  most 
characteristic  of  them,  and  this  becomes  their  principle. 
The  principle  of  a  nation  is  that  which  the  national  con- 
sciousness fixates  itself  upon  as  the  title  of  the  nation  to 
continued  existence.  Nations  do  not  go  to  war  over  their 
causes,  or  about  their  distinctive  virtues  and  missions  in 
the  world.  Rather  it  is  their  likenesses  that  precipitate 
wars, —  their  resemblances  and  identities  in  being  the  same 
in  ambition,  and  having  the  same  conceptions  of  national 
honor  and  the  same  motives  for  war  and  desiring  the  same 
objects.  Nations  in  general  do  not  go  to  war  over  prin- 
ciples because  they  are  not  motivated  by  principles  in  their 
historical  course.  The  principles  of  nations  are  aspects  of 
their  inner  development.  The  "  causes  "  of  nations  at  war, 
according  to  our  view,  are  these  inner  qualities  of  which 
they  have  become  conscious.  Nations  discover  them  in  the 
stress  of  war,  and  it  is  quite  natural  also  that  in  such  times 
they  should  not  always  judge  them  fairly,  and  that  they 
should  often  make  for  themselves  a  fictitious  character. 


CHAPTER  VII 

PHILOSOPHICAL   INFLUENCES 

Philosophy,  in  the  minds  of  many  writers,  must  be  given 
a  high  place  among  the  causes  of  war,  and  a  considerable 
fraction  of  the  literature  of  the  late  war  is  devoted  to  the 
problem  of  discovering,  in  the  field  of  abstract  thought,  the 
influences  that  led  to  the  great  conflict.  Nietzsche,  espe- 
cially, seems  to  have  been  held  responsible  for  the  European 
conflagration.  As  the  philosopher  of  the  New  Germany,  as 
the  chief  expositor  of  the  doctrine  of  force,  the  inventor 
of  the  super-man  and  of  the  idea  of  the  beyond-good, 
Nietzsche  seems  to  stand  convicted  of  furnishing  precisely 
the  concepts  that  have  become  the  German's  gospel  of  war; 
and  since  the  German  is  prone  to  be  guided  by  abstractions, 
the  evidence,  even  though  circumstantial,  seems  to  many  to 
be  convincing. 

Schopenhauer,  also,  as  the  great  pessimist;  Hegel,  with 
his  doctrine  of  the  supremacy  of  the  State  as  the  representa- 
tive of  the  Idea  on  earth;  Kant,  as  the  discoverer  of  the 
subjective  moral  principle;  English  utilitarianism  as  the 
doctrine  of  the  main  chance;  empiricism,  as  the  philosophy 
of  inconsistency  and  dual  principles  of  thought  and  con- 
duct; even  the  whole  spirit  of  the  English  philosophy,  which 
Wundt  says  is  nothing  but  an  attempt  to  reconcile  thought 
with  the  ideas  of  peace  and  comfort  —  all  these  have  been 
charged  with  being  instigators  of  the  war. 

Bergson  (17)  takes  a  different  view.  He  says  that  the 
desire  comes  first,  the  doctrine  afterward'^.  Germany,  de- 
termined upon  war.  invokes  Nietzsche  or  Hegel.  Germany 
in  a  moral  temper  would  appeal  to  Kant,  or  in  still  a  differ- 
no 


Philosophical  Influences  1 1 1 

ent  mood  to  the  Romanticists.  Le  Bon  (42)  says  that  na- 
tions are  pushed  forward  by  forces  which  they  cannot  un- 
derstand, and  that  rational  thoughts  and  desires  play  but 
a  little  part  in  war.  That  appears  to  be  true.  We  can- 
not say  that  philosophies  do  not  enter  at  all  into  the  causes 
of  war,  but  among  these  causes  they  must  be  insignificant 
as  compared  with  other  causes  that  neither  arise  from  ab- 
stract thought  nor  are  greatly  modified  by  reason  in  any 
way.  Consider  the  influence  of  Napoleon  (himself  so  little 
a  product  of  any  philosophical  influence),  as  compared  with 
Hegel ;  or  of  Bismarck  as  compared  with  Nietzsche,  and 
this  will  be  apparent.  There  are  in  the  course  of  the  cen- 
turies books  and  men  that,  as  rational  forces,  do  exert  pro- 
found effect  upon  the  practical  life,  but  they  must  be  rarer 
than  is  sometimes  supposed.  It  is  all  too  easy  to  assume 
a  relation  of  cause  and  effect  when  there  is  only  a  similarity 
between  thought  and  subsequent  conduct.  Rousseau  may 
or  may  not  have  inspired  the  French  Revolution.  Probably 
he  did  not.  The  recent  great  war,  we  might  say,  has  oc- 
curred in  spite  of  philosophy,  and  if  Nietzsche's  influence 
gravitated  toward  war,  it  can  hardly  be  thought  to  have 
had  any  deciding  force  in  turning  the  scales  already  so  over- 
loaded by  fate.  Philosophy  failed  to  prevent  war. 
Nietzsche's  philosophy  did  not  cause  it.  His  philosophy 
affords  a  convenient  phraseology  in  which  to  express  a 
philosophy  of  war,  granting  sufficient  misinterpretation  of 
his  philosophy.  Probably  what  influence  he  has  had  has 
been  due  rather  to  his  literary  impressiveness  than  to  his 
thought  as  a  contribution  to  philosophy. 

Darwin,  as  the  great  force  behind  a  new  and  varied  de- 
velopment of  science,  has  had  the  fate  to  be,  in  some  sense, 
a  factor  in  the  moods  and  the  new  habits  of  life  that  led 
toward  the  final  issue  in  the  great  war.  It  is  not  so  much 
that  his  principle,  misapplied,  or  applied  uncritically  may 
become  a  justification  of  war  or  even  its  basic  principle 
that  has  made  him  so  great  an  influence,  but  precisely  be- 


112  The   Psycliulo^y   of  Nations 

cause  his  thoii^^ht.  by  becoming  one  of  the  great  coorchnat- 
ing  principles  of  all  the  natural  sciences  has  given  jjower 
to  a  movement  which  has  had  various  practical  consefjuences, 
not  all  of  them  good,  or  at  least  not  all  yielding  fruit  for 
our  own  age.  Darwin's  great  influence  as  a  force  turning 
scholarly  interest  toward  naturalism  and  away  from  classi- 
cism, as  a  factor  in  modern  materialism  and  even  pessimism, 
as  a  background,  if  no  more,  for  the  Haeckels  and  Ostwalds 
of  science  is  no  inconsiderable  factor  in  the  scientific  and 
objective  spirit  of  the  day. 

Facts  must  be  faced.  It  is  not  such  influences  as  that 
of  Schopenhauer,  who  expresses  a  logical  or  at  least  an 
abstract  and  we  might  add  literary  form  of  pessimism,  that 
in  the  generations  just  past  have  transformed  most  of  the 
conceptions  of  religion,  with  all  the  effects  upon  the  practical 
life  that  have  followed,  but  the  force  of  our  modern  science 
combining  with  tendencies  which  it  fosters  but  perhaps  does 
not  create,  giving  momentum  to  industrialism  and  specializa- 
tion,—  it  is  this  change  in  the  ideas  of  men  that  we  must 
suspect  of  being  implicated  in  the  present  catastrophe  of  the 
world,  if  any  influence  from  the  rational  life  is  to  be  counted 
at  all.  Hegel  and  Kant  hover  in  the  background.  The 
author  of  the  plan  for  universal  peace  provides  us  with 
a  subjective  principle  of  morality  which  can  be  distorted 
into  a  philosophy  of  moral  independence  and  even  of  in- 
dependence from  morality,  and  Hegel  must  have  helped  to 
establish  the  German  theory  of  the  State,  although  with 
Treitschke  and  with  the  practical  state-makers  like  Fred- 
erick the  Great  and  his  followers,  we  can  hardly  believe 
Hegel  indispensable.  The  causes  of  war  are  too  general,  too 
old  and  too  fundamental  to  be  greatly  added  to  or  de- 
tracted from  as  yet  by  philosophy.  Philosophy  is  the  hope 
of  the  world,  it  may  be,  and  by  no  means  a  forlorn  hope, 
but  it  is  not  yet  one  of  the  great  powers.  When  philosophy 
is  a  mere  endorsement  by  reason  of  some  motive  that  has 
arisen  in  the  practical  life,  or  is  a  literary  expression  of 


Philosophical  Influences  113 

views  about  life,  it  may  give  the  appearance  of  being  a 
profound  force  in  the  world.  But  this  is  not  real  philoso- 
phy, in  any  case.  Philosophy  has  not  as  yet  shown  itself 
highly  creative  even  in  the  calm  fields  of  education  and  the 
moral  life. 

No!  Philosophy  is  a  factor  in  the  motives  of  war  rather 
by  reason  of  what  it  has  not  done,  than  because  of  its 
positive  teachings.  To-day  we  ought  no  longer  to  be  un- 
der illusions  on  that  point.  Neither  Christianity  nor 
philosophy  can  make  or  prevent  wars  as  yet.  They  have 
not  been  able  to  cope  with  the  practical  forces  of  the 
world  which  make  for  nationalism,  partisanship  and  per- 
sonal interests.  It  would  require  a  greater  amount  both  of 
religion  and  of  philosophy  than  we  now  can  bring  to  bear 
upon  the  world  to  offset  the  influence  of  Napoleon  alone  in 
the  practical  life  of  nations.  It  is  the  Napoleonic  spirit 
that  still  governs  Europe.  Philosophy  has  been  thus  far  a 
science  of  being  an  explanation  of  the  world  after  the 
fact,  and  not  even  to  any  great  extent  a  science  of  its 
progress,  except  in  so  far  as,  we  may  say,  beginning  with 
Hegel  and  with  Spencer,  there  has  been  some  develop- 
ment of  the  methods  and  the  most  formal  conceptions  of 
such  a  science.  It  is  asking  too  much  of  philosophy,  in  its 
present  stage,  to  expect  it  to  preach  the  gospel,  or  to  teach 
school,  or  to  direct  politics,  and  for  the  same  reason  it  is 
unjust  to  charge  philosophy  with  having  created  the  great- 
est catastrophe  of  history.  If  philosophy  cannot  wield 
any  great  power  now  in  those  parts  of  life  that  are  by 
their  nature  presumably  most  amenable  to  reason,  its  effect 
upon  those  events  that  express  the  supreme  force  of  human 
passions  and  the  totality  of  life  will  not  be  very  important. 
The  influences  of  philosophy  are  academic,  and  presumably 
any  doctrine  of  life  that  preaches  achievement,  virility  and 
unmorality  will  include  in  some  degree  war  among  the  in- 
terests that  it  will  affect,  within  the  limits  of  its  academic 
nature.     But  youth   is   inherently   warlike,    because   above 


114  i^i*^   Psychnlngy   of  Nations 

everything  else  it  seeks  to  realize  life  in  its  fullness,  and  war 
at  least  does  symbolize  this  reality  and  abundance  of  life. 
A  philosophy  which  preached  peace  would  hardly  become  a 
great  influence  with  youth.  A  philosophy  advocating  the 
cause  of  war  would  form  a  natural  background  for  the  es- 
sential motives  of  youth.  If  the  scales  were  evenly  bal- 
anced, it  might  turn  them.  It  is  hard  at  least  to  see  the 
relations  of  philosophy  to  the  practical  life  in  any  other 
light  to-day.  Philosophies  are  tenuous  and  adaptable 
things.  We  see  them  used  to  support  opposite  causes,  and 
they  change  color  under  the  influence  of  strong  desires. 
Bosanquet  (91)  shows  us  how  Hegel's  noble  conception 
of  the  State,  if  we  but  substitute  for  its  central  thought  of 
welfare  of  the  State,  that  of  selfish  interest,  may  be  made 
to  change  before  our  eyes  into  the  meanest  of  maxims. 
This  process  is,  however,  not  unique  in  the  history  of  the 
relations  of  thought  and  life. 

A  detailed  study  of  the  relations  of  intellectual  factors 
to  war  would  need  to  consider  the  effects  of  a  great  number 
of  more  or  less  philosophical  ideas  which  throw  their  weight 
on  the  side  of  war.  So  far  as  these  ideas  are  simple  and 
clear,  and  especially  if  they  can  be  conveyed  in  the  form  of 
the  phrase,  their  influence  cannot  wholly  be  ignored.  Some 
we  have  already  referred  to.  The  doctrine  that  might 
makes  right,  the  conception  of  state  as  supreme,  the  belief 
in  the  divine  right  of  kings,  the  belief  in  the  ordained  rights 
of  aristocracy,  belief  in  militarism  as  a  social  institution, 
the  doctrine  that  life  may  be  controlled  by  reason,  all  in- 
tellectual pessimism,  skepticism,  any  form  of  concept-wor- 
ship, whether  Hegelian  or  other,  acceptance  of  the  methods 
of  science  and  the  results  of  science  as  applicable  to  all 
the  problems  of  life  —  all  such  principles  which  inhabit  the 
region,  so  to  speak,  between  philosophy  and  the  practical  life 
manifestly  have  some  relation  to  the  spirit  of  war.  In  a 
very  general  way  they  may  be  counted  as  philosophical 
factors  in  war.     For  the  most  part,  however,  those  ideas 


Philosophical  Influences  115 

that  have  been  accused  of  abetting  war  are  exaggerations 
and  perversions  of  philosophical  ideas.  Nietzsche,  Darwin 
and  Hegel  have  all  been  exploited  and  made  to  stand  sponsor 
for  specific  philosophies  of  war.  In  the  new  philosophy  of 
life  which  Patten  thinks  has  greatly  influenced  German  con- 
duct, and  which  may  be  expressed  in  the  words  Dienst, 
Ordnung,  and  Kraft,  we  can  see  both  the  effects  of  impulses 
that  have  grown  out  of  the  new  life  itself,  and  the  influences 
of  formal  philosophy.  That  such  ideas  have  had  relatively 
a  greater  influence  in  Germany  than  elsewhere  must  be  ad- 
mitted, but  that  either  this  devotion  to  ideas  or  the  ideas 
themselves  have  been  derived  from  philosophical  interests 
and  from  philosophies  that  have  played  any  important  part 
in  the  history  of  thought  we  may  well  doubt.  We  should 
suspect  that  the  same  practical  interest  that  works  unceas- 
ingly to  distort  and  popularize  philosophy  would  help  to 
create  such  pseudo-philosophy. 

Von  Billow  (65)  says  that  the  German  people  have  a 
passion  for  logic,  and  that  this  passion  amounts  to  fanati- 
cism :  —  that  when  an  intellectual  form  or  system  has  been 
found  for  anything,  they  insist  with  obstinate  perseverance 
on  fitting  realities  into  the  system.  Durkheim  (16)  says 
that  the  Germans'  organized  system  of  ideas  is  a  cause  of 
war.  It  is  also  true,  we  should  say,  that  the  tendency  to 
organize  ideas  and  even  the  fundamental  ideas  by  which 
the  Germans  have  been  guided  are  deeply  rooted  in  tem- 
perament, in  history  and  in  the  social  order  of  the  past. 
Boutroux  (13)  says  that  the  Germans  themselves  regard 
the  war  as  the  culmination  of  their  philosophy.  We  should 
say  on  the  contrary  that  the  whole  war  philosophy  of  Eu- 
rope is  almost  wholly  a  product  of  strife  and  comes  from 
impulses  that  arise  irresistibly  in  the  practical  life.  Into 
these  movements  philosophy  fits  or  may  be  made  to  fit, 
and  the  presence  of  ideas  in  a  society  in  which  the  academic 
life  has  great  prestige,  ideas  which  coincide  with  beliefs 
readily  gives  an  illusion  of  an  order  governed  by  the  higher 


Ii6  TJic   Psychology   of  Nations 

reason.  The  fad  thai  (Germany's  recent  wars  had  all 
been  highly  successful,  the  fact  that  Germany  had  learned 
to  depend  upon  her  good  sword  in  time  of  need  are  the 
chief  sources  of  Gerinany's  doctrines  of  war:  the  Hegelian 
background  in  the  light  of  what  we  have  learned  in  recent 
times  about  the  psychology  of  nations,  must  seem  to  be 
rather  of  the  nature  of  the  ornamental.  The  ideal  of  the 
Prussian  State  to  be  a  power  directed  by  intelligence  sug- 
gests Hegel,  but  it  seems  highly  improbable,  to  say  the  least, 
that  Hegelian  philosophy  has  had  much  to  do  with  shaping 
this  ideal.  Behind  all  this  is  the  necessity  of  shaping 
German  life  in  the  form  which  it  has  taken  —  necessity  if 
we  accept,  at  least,  Germany's  national  temperament  itself  as 
a  necessity.  That  other  belief,  widely  held  by  German  in- 
tellectuals and  officers  that  war  is  the  testing  of  the  validity 
of  national  cultures  would  also  probably  never  have  ap- 
peared on  the  scene  had  not  Germany  been  secure  in  the 
belief  that  she  herself  had  both  the  right  and  the  might 
on  her  side.  It  is  possible,  of  course,  that  the  w-ar  has  dis- 
torted our  vision  so  that  the  relations  of  the  practical  life 
and  the  life  of  reason  have  all  been  thrown  out  of  focus, 
but  w'hen  w'e  see  what  forces  have  been  at  w^ork.  and  what 
they  have  done,  it  is  difficult  to  escape  the  conviction  that 
we  have  been  inclined  to  believe  too  much  in  the  power  of 
mere  ideas.  This  may  be  the  great  lesson  of  the  war.  W'e 
may  learn  from  it  how  to  make  ideas  become  the  power  that 
hitherto  they  have  failed  to  be. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RELIGIOUS   AND    MORAL   INFLUENCES 

That  war  and  religion  have  always  been  closely  asso- 
ciated with  one  another  is  one  of  the  outstanding  facts  of 
history.  This  is  true  both  of  primitive  warfare  and  of 
warfare  to-day.  Yet  we  cannot  say  that  religion  as  such 
has  been  a  cause  of  war.  Religious  wars  are  almost  in- 
variably also  political  wars,  and  as  soon  as  religion  and 
politics  are  separated,  religion  no  longer  appears  to  be  a 
war  motive.  When  religion  becomes  associated  with 
worldly  ideas  which  it  supports  and  makes  dynamic  it  may 
become  a  strong  factor  in  the  spirit  of  war,  but  as  a  means 
of  segregating  men,  and  giving  them  unity  of  action  religion 
can  no  longer  be  regarded  as  a  power,  if  it  ever  was.  Any 
motive  that  will  not  so  segregate  men  and  break  up  all 
other  bonds  cannot  be  said  to  be  a  very  fertile  cause  of  war. 
Religion  as  a  cause  of  war  belongs  to  a  day  in  which  the 
spirit  of  nationalism  was  weak,  and  when  religious  empire 
had  a  visible  and  political  position  in  the  world.  National- 
ism, growing  stronger,  became  the  supreme  force  dominat- 
ing the  motives  and  interests  of  men  and  governing  the 
formation  of  groups,  or  at  least  the  actions  of  groups  as 
interrelated  units.  In  the  recent  war  we  have  seen  how 
the  sense  of  national  unity  has  been  able  to  hold  in  check 
all  other  motives.  Neither  religion  nor  any  class  or  clan 
or  guild  interests  could  trace  the  faintest  line  of  cleavage  so 
long  as  the  motive  of  war  remained. 

The  mood  of  war  always  contains  a  religious  element. 
Not  only  is  this  shown  in  primitive  wars,  where  the  rela- 
tions of  religion,  war  and  art  are  indicated  in  such  phenom- 

117 


ii8  The  Psychuloyy   of  Nations 

ena  as  the  war  dance,  which  is  of  the  nature  of  a  magic 
weapon,  but  we  see  it  also  in  the  complex  moods  of  the 
present  war  spirit  of  the  world.  The  idea  and  mood  of 
valor  have  a  religious  significance.  Cramb  says  that  we 
can  trace  in  Germany  before  the  war,  showing  through  the 
transient  mists  of  industrialism  and  socialism,  the  vision  of 
the  religion  of  valor  which  runs  through  all  German  his- 
tory. The  craving  for  a  valorous  life,  for  reality,  the  de- 
sire to  lose  one's  own  individuality  —  these  moods  of  war 
are  religious  or  mystic  whatever  else  they  may  be  or  con- 
tain. The  inseparable  relation  of  war  and  death  necessar- 
ily inspires  a  religious  consciousness.  Without  exalted 
moods  w'hich  in  some  way  contain  religious  faith  —  faith  on 
the  part  of  the  individual  in  the  eternal  values  which  he 
represents  and  in  his  own  security  in  the  hands  of  fate,  and 
in  the  immortality  of  the  country  which  he  serves,  war  could 
not  exist. 

The  mood  of  war  always  contains  a  religious  sanction, 
and  every  important  religion  sanctions  war.  This  explicit 
relation  between  religion  and  war  is  seen  very  early. 
Wherever  there  is  ghost  worship,  and  the  warriors  justify 
war  and  fortify  themselves  for  it  by  believing  that  their 
ancestors  still  participate  in  the  combats  of  their  children, 
and  that  in  waging  war  they  are  doing  a  duty  in  keeping 
up  the  traditional  feuds  of  their  race  there  is  found  the 
root  of  the  relation  between  war  and  religion.  Every  war 
is  a  holy  war ;  it  is  but  a  change  in  degree  from  these  primi- 
tive w'ars  in  which  the  ideas  of  ghosts  must  have  had  al- 
most the  clearness  of  reality  to  our  modern  wars  with 
their  deeper  but  more  indefinite  religious  sanctions.  Since 
war  always  creates  the  need  of  moral  justification,  the 
w^ar  mood  at  all  times  tends  to  seek  religious  sanctions. 
Christianity,  the  doctrine  of  peace  and  good  will,  very 
readily  lends  its  support  to  war.  since  wars  are  almost 
invariably  regarded  as  defensive  by  all  who  participate  in 
them.     \\d.r  in  the  service   of  the  weak  and  endangered 


Religious  and  Moral  Influences  119 

can  always  invoke  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  The  logical 
ground  for  this  has  been  laid  for  us  by  many  writers; 
Drawbridge  (19),  one  of  the  most  recent,  finds  no  support 
in  Christianity  for  the  doctrines  of  pacifism.  All  nations, 
when  they  fight,  fight  for  God,  for  liberty  and  the  right, 
with  the  implied  belief  that  their  own  country  has  a  mission 
in  the  world,  supported  by  divine  authority. 

All  governments  have  in  them  a  strain  of  theocracy. 
We  see  this  in  many  degrees  and  forms,  from  the  original 
totemistic  belief  in  descent  from  animals  that  are  also  gods 
to  the  vaguest  remnants  of  the  habit  of  interpreting  na- 
tional interests  as  guarded  by  divine  powers  that  we  often 
see  in  the  language  of  practical  statesmen.  The  doctrine 
of  the  divine  rights  of  kings  of  course  had  its  origin  in 
that  of  divine  descent.  The  most  striking  revelation  of 
the  place  such  theories  may  have,  even  in  modern  times 
and  in  enlightened  nations,  is  to  be  seen  in  the  revival  and 
deliberate  use  of  the  doctrine  of  divine  descent  as  a  funda- 
mental principle  of  the  government  and  theory  of  State 
in  the  New  Japan.  All  nations  hold  something  of  this 
philosophy ;  God  and  State  are  always  related  and  all  wars, 
whatever  else  they  may  be,  are  waged  in  the  service  of  re- 
ligion and  with  the  sanction  of  it.  This  spirit  is  not  want- 
ing even  in  the  most  modern  democracy.  The  historians  of 
Germany  have  shown  us  to  what  an  extent  the  theory  of 
the  divinity  of  state  and  its  divine  mission  may  be  inter- 
mingled with  practical  politics  and  have  helped  to  bring 
to  light  the  psychology  of  this  movement  in  history. 

Several  writers,  but  especially  Le  Bon  (42),  have  written 
about  the  relation  of  mysticism  to  war.  Le  Bon  said  indeed 
that  the  main  causes  of  war,  including  the  most  recent 
one,  are  mystical  causes.  By  mysticism  he  means  un- 
conscious factors  which  are  religious  in  quality  and  which 
contain  a  race  ideal  which  is  both  powerful  and  irrational. 
German  mysticism  appears  to  have  attracted  much  atten- 
tion during  the  years  of  the  war.     Germany  has  presented 


1 20  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

the  picture,  we  are  told,  of  a  people  becoming  dangerous 
by  couching  national  ambition  and  honor  in  terms  of  re- 
ligion. This  mysticism  of  the  German  contains  a  power- 
ful belief  in  race  superiority,  and  in  the  supremacy  of  the 
culture  of  their  own  nation,  beliefs  which  have  the  clear 
marks  of  mysticism  about  them.  The  traces  of  the  theory 
of  divine  origin  still  cling  to  them.  Boutroux  (13)  says 
the  Prussian  State  is  a  synthesis  of  the  divine  and  the 
human.  Another  writer  observes  that  the  Germans  be- 
lieve in  the  altogether  unique  and  quasi-divine  excellence  of 
the  German  race,  and  of  Germanism,  and  that  the  Germans 
have  a  new  religion  which  they  believe  in  spreading  by  the 
sword.  Some  see  in  Germany  a  serious  demand  for  the 
revival  of  the  religion  of  Odin  and  Thor,  the  religion  of 
conflict  of  primeval  forces,  and  of  the  triumph  of  might. 
Literary  expressions  of  this  religion  are  certainly  to  be 
found,  and  it  may  fairly  be  maintained  that  Germany  has 
never  become  Christianized  to  the  extent  that  most  modern 
nations  have. 

That  mysticism  has  been  a  large  factor  in  the  war  spirit 
of  the  Germans  in  the  late  war  can  hardly  be  doubted,  or 
at  least  that  a  religious  element  of  some  kind  has  played 
a  great  part  in  it.  The  war  began  as  Germany's  holy  war. 
A  cult  of  State  and  of  self-worship  are  involved  in  it.  If 
not,  innumerable  expressions  of  Germany's  cause  among 
German  wTiters  are  simply  literary  exaggerations.  The 
Germans  have  believed  that  they  are  God's  chosen  people, 
that  they  represent  God,  and  since  the  German  civilization 
grew  up  in  antagonism  to  the  Graeco-Roman  civilization, 
God  must  have  adopted  the  one  and  discarded  the  other. 
One  German  writer  says  that  we  must  eliminate  from  our 
belief  the  last  drop  of  faith  in  the  idea  of  a  progressive 
movement  of  humanity  as  a  whole.  Reality  is  represented 
in  one  nation  at  a  time,  and  the  chosen  nation  is  the  leader 
of  all  the  rest. 

While  such  mysticism  as  this  (if  it  be  mysticism)  is  most 


Religious  and  Moral  Influences  ill 

conspicuous  in  aristocratic  and  imperialistic  nations,  we 
find  it  elsewhere.  It  is  a  powerful  force  in  imperialistic 
Japan  and  in  Russia.  We  find  it  everywhere  in  history  in 
some  form.  In  France  it  is  still  the  "  saintly  figure  "  of 
France  that  inspires  the  soldier  and  induces  a  religious 
mood.  There  is  no  longer  a  vision  of  an  empire  of  the 
future,  perhaps,  and  this  mysticism  of  France  has  not  in 
recent  history  shown  itself  in  the  form  of  aggression,  but 
French  mysticism  clings  to  the  ideal  and  the  hope  of  a 
glorious  future  for  a  deathless  France  soon  to  be  renewed. 
All  peoples  that  have  declined  or  suffered  an  adverse  fate, 
even  the  pathetic  remnants  of  the  American  Indians,  expect 
the  return  of  their  lost  power.  Such  mysticism  is,  we  may 
think,  the  only  condition  under  which  national  life  in  many 
cases  can  continue.  The  religious  or  the  mystical  mood 
of  nations  is  created  by  the  need  of  making  belief  dynamic, 
of  overcoming  doubts  and  fears.  Hence  the  exaggerated 
and  irrational  claims  peoples  make  in  regard  to  the  value 
of  their  culture  and  about  their  mission  on  earth.  By  their 
mysticism  nations  justify  their  aggressive  wars  and  fortify 
themselves  in  their  defensive  wars.  Thus  nations  acquire 
a  feeling  of  security.  They  believe  in  their  star  of  destiny. 
They  feel  that  their  life  which  is  of  supreme  value  to  the 
world  cannot  perish.  It  is  this  spirit  that  nations  take  with 
them  into  battle.  It  is  a  mystic  force,  and  this  mystic  force 
is,  in  great  part,  we  may  believe,  one  of  the  by-products 
of  the  tragedy  of  history.  Faith  and  hope  have  one  of 
their  roots  at  least  in  fear  and  pessimism. 

Moral  Motives  and  War 

That  the  attitude  of  nations  toward  one  another  is  not, 
generally  speaking,  an  ethical  attitude  and  that  moral  prin- 
ciples do  not  motivate  the  conduct  of  peoples  we  have  al- 
ready suggested.  Sumner  (70)  says  that  the  whole  history 
of  mankind  is  a  series  of  acts  open  to  doubt,  dispute  and 


122  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

criticism  as  to  their  right  and  justice.  Differences  end  in 
force,  and  the  defeated  side  always  protests  that  the  re- 
sults are  unjust.  And  yet  wars  are  always  conducted  with 
moral  justification  and  in  the  belief  that  moral  principles  are 
involved.  These  moral  principles,  however,  are  not  the 
points  of  difference  upon  which  the  beginning  of  wars  de- 
pends. Nations  never  go  to  war  for  purely  moral  reasons. 
Moral  feeling  may  coincide  with  the  interests  of  state,  and 
a  defensive  war  may  of  course  be  conducted  in  the  spirit  of 
deep  moral  right  and  duty,  but  plainly  it  is  never  the  sense  of 
right  and  duty  alone  that  is  the  motive  of  defense.  Perhaps 
after  all  this  question  of  the  moral  element  in  the  causes 
of  war  is  a  futile  one,  and  leads  to  casuistry.  There  are 
always  political  and  other  practical  questions  involved, 
whenever  strain  occurs  between  nations,  so  that  wholly 
moral  issues  can  never  arise. 

If  wars  are  not  moral  in  the  making  they  are  always 
justified  morally,  whatever  the  motives  may  have  been 
that  caused  them.  Without  this  moral  sanction  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  wars  could  be  conducted  at  all,  although  this 
moral  sanction  may  be  based  upon  very  superficial  grounds. 
The  higher  patriotic  feeling  runs,  says  Veblen  (97),  the 
thinner  may  be  the  moral  sanction  that  satisfies  the  public 
conscience.  On  the  other  hand  moral  sentiment  may  often 
be  strong  and  deep  in  the  minds  of  the  masses  of  people 
in  a  nation,  and  the  public  feeling  of  obligation  to  enter  a 
war  may  be  strong,  but  in  general  such  moral  feeling  does 
not  lead  to  war.  Righteous  indignation  lacks  initiative. 
Honor  as  moral  obligation  requires  the  aid  of  honor  as  na- 
tional pride  and  dignity.  The  relations  among  allies  may 
at  first  thought  seem  to  be  moral  relations,  but  when  we 
observe  closely  we  see  that  usually  nations  go  to  war 
together  because  their  common  interests  are  endangered. 
When  their  common  interests  are  not  involved  they  usually 
break  treaties  and  so  do  not  stay  together.  Actions  di- 
rected offensively  against  one  member  of  a  coalition  are 


Religious  and  Moral  Influences  123 

usually  directed  against  the  others,  so  that  in  most  cases 
the  allies  of  a  nation  have  no  choice,  but  must  defend  them- 
selves. 

The  relative  importance  of  moral  principles  in  the  mo- 
tives of  war  may  be  observed  by  comparing  the  motives 
assigned  by  the  nations  that  participated  in  the  late  war  with 
the  motives  which  a  study  of  the  history  and  political  sit- 
uations of  these  countries  reveals.  There  are  wide  dis- 
parities between  these  historical  causes  and  the  assigned 
causes.  These  need  not,  however,  lead  us  to  take  a  cynical 
view  of  history  as  many  sociologists  and  students  of  politics 
do.  We  have  as  yet  no  organized  world  in  which  moral 
principle  can  operate.  The  world,  we  might  say,  is  still 
infantile  or  immature.  The  world  is  still  unmoral.  We 
cannot  say  that  nationalism  as  the  principle  of  the  conduct  of 
nations  is  a  wholly  selfish  principle  as  contrasted  with  a 
moral  or  altruistic  motive,  since  such  an  analogy  with  in- 
dividual morality  fails  to  take  into  account  the  complex 
nature  of  nationalism,  and  overlooks  the  social  qualities 
of  patriotism. 

England's  purpose  in  entering  the  war  has  been  freely 
discussed  in  England.  The  popular  impression  is  that 
England  declared  war  upon  Germany  in  order  to  defend 
Belgium  and  to  keep  her  treaty  obligations.  If  we  con- 
sider conduct  in  a  certain  abstraction  from  the  practical 
setting  in  which  it  is  performed  such  a  conclusion  can  be 
drawn.  There  was  a  moral  stirring  in  England,  and  sev- 
eral writers  have  commented  upon  the  fact  that  England 
subverted  her  own  conscious  purposes  by  her  unconscious 
and  instinctive  morality.  There  was  a  strong  feeling 
against  war,  even  a  widespread  moral  sense  that  England 
had  become  too  civilized  to  wage  war.  There  was  a 
shrinking  from  the  economic  hardships  that  war  would 
entail.  Against  these  strong  tendencies  there  prevailed,  at 
least  in  popular  sentiment,  a  profound  feeling  that  in  some 
way   Germany's   civilization   was   incompatible   with   Eng- 


124  ^ /"■   Psychology   of  Nalions 

land's,  and  this  feeling  was  in  part  of  the  nature  of  moral 
aversion.  Dillion  (55),  at  least,  sees  a  profound  ethical 
motive  in  Italy  in  the  late  war.  After  a  pro-German  party 
had  won  out  in  favor  of  war,  he  says,  a  deus  ex  iiiachina  in 
the  shape  of  an  indignant  nation  descended  upon  the  scene. 
But  after  making  allowance  for  all  moral  feeling  and  the 
unusual  and  dramatic  manner  in  which  moral  issues,  to  a 
greater  degree  than  ever  before  in  modern  history,  were 
brought  to  the  front,  we  must  admit  that  the  political  and 
diplomatic  interests  and  manners  of  nations  have  taken 
their  usual  course  in  the  war.  Nations  have  been  governed 
by  the  motives  that  have  always  dominated  the  relations  of 
groups  to  one  another. 

Germany  presents  the  most  glaring  example  of  the  con- 
trast between  public  opinion  and  expressed  motives  and 
political  facts.  Such  expressions  as  these :  that  Germany's 
ideal  is  one  that  does  violence  to  no  one:  that  humanity 
and  all  human  blessings  stand  under  the  protection  of  Ger- 
man arms;  that,  where  the  German  spirit  obtains  supremacy, 
there  freedom  reigns ;  that  in  regard  to  England's  down- 
fall, there  can  be  but  one  opinion  —  it  is  the  very  highest 
mission  of  German  culture ;  that  Germany's  war  is  a  holy 
war  —  such  expressions  as  these,  which  are  psychologically 
explicable  without  questioning  their  sincerity,  seem  out 
of  harmony,  to  say  the  least,  with  what  we  know  of  Ger- 
many's political  aspirations.  Germany's  desire  for  Eng- 
land's downfall  does  not  appear  to  us  to  be  based  upon  a 
moral  motive ;  Germany's  war  seems  far  from  being  a  holy 
war,  and  it  is  hard  to  see  in  it  a  means  of  spreading  cul- 
ture abroad  in  the  world.  We  cannot  give  any  place  in 
the  causes  of  this  war  to  a  moral  desire  to  make  the  world 
better.  However  much  Germany  may  have  been  convinced 
that  Germany  was  destined  to  be  a  civilizing  force  in  the 
world,  the  moral  obligation  thus  aroused,  we  may  be  sure, 
did  not  become  the  real  motive  of  the  war. 

The    moral    justifications    of    war    are    very    numerous, 


Religious  and  Moral  Influences  125 

and  that  this  belief  in  war  has  some  effect  upon  the  spirit 
of  war  and  helps  to  perpetuate  it,  and  is  not  a  mere  reflection 
of  the  warlike  spirit  itself,  may  of  course  be  admitted. 
Many  believe  that  war  accomplishes  work  in  the  world; 
war  IS  a  great  organizing  force.  There  is  also  a  view  that 
war  is  good  as  a  moral  stimulant,  or  as  a  creative  moral 
force.  War  is  often  regarded  as  the  means  of  moral  re- 
vival of  a  people  that  has  become  sordid  and  dull.  Schmitz 
(29)  says  that  war  gives  reality  to  a  country.  War 
strengthens  national  character,  some  think.  It  purges  na- 
tions. In  war  people  grow  hard  but  pure.  Irwin  (25) 
says  that  such  war  philosophy  as  this  is  to  be  heard  broadly 
in  Europe,  chiefly  in  Germany,  but  also  in  France  and  in 
England.  Mach  (95)  says  that  disintegration  takes  place 
in  times  of  peace.  Schoonmaker  says  that  war  has  taught 
men  socialization.  Again  we  hear  that  wars  are  just  and 
right  because  they  are  necessary.  Redier  (30)  says  that 
war  is  a  way  of  giving  back  courage  to  the  men  of  our 
times.  This  praise  of  war  which  comes  from  the  depths 
of  feelings,  we  must  suppose  helps  to  give  continuity  and 
force  to  these  feelings. 

Institutional  Factors 

If  the  spirit  of  war  is  to  any  extent  educable,  and  is 
created  in  national  life  and  is  not  merely  something  in- 
stinctive, it  is  presumably  modified  in  one  way  and  an- 
other by  all  those  institutions  that  are  educational  in  their 
effect.  Perhaps  one  of  the  most  pressing  problems  of  edu- 
cation in  the  near  future  will  be  that  of  the  relation  of  edu- 
cation to  war.  We  shall  need  to  know  what  the  school 
has  done  to  cause  wars,  what  changes  should  be  made  in 
the  future  with  reference  to  this  influence  of  education  upon 
the  fundamental  motives  of  national  life.  The  school- 
master has  been  indicted  among  other  instigators  of  war. 
We  must  see  how  much  truth  there  is  in  this  allegation. 
We  must  understand  also  how  the  whole  educational  process. 


126  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

as  we  may  see  it  now  after  the  war,  may  be  made  if  possible 
to  become  a  greater  factor  in  life  than  it  has  been  in  the 
past,  if  it  is  at  all  an  important  element  in  the  development 
and  the  control  of  the  psychic  powers  of  nations. 

Schmitz  (29)  says  that  the  eighteenth  century  and  the 
French  Revolution  were  dominated  by  the  phrase,  the  nine- 
teenth by  money,  and  that  there  was  a  danger  that  the  twen- 
tieth century  would  be  dominated  by  the  schoolmaster  and 
by  the  concept,  but  that  this  danger  is  past  because  life 
has  become  so  full  of  realities.  Russell  says,  we  know,  that 
men  fight  because  they  have  been  governed  in  their  beliefs 
and  in  their  conduct  by  authority.  If  this  be  true  the  au- 
thority exercised  upon  the  mind  of  the  child  by  all  his  teach- 
ers may  be  suspected  of  having  been  in  one  way  or  an- 
other an  influence  in  creating  the  moral  attitudes  that  pre- 
vail in  regard  to  war  and  peace.  We  have  heard  the  ques- 
tion raised  as  to  whether  in  the  past  the  teaching  of  history 
as  the  story  of  wars,  and  the  presentation  of  the  facts  of 
history  from  the  nationalistic  point  of  view,  have  not  been 
morally  wrong. 

German  schools,  and  the  method  of  public  education  the 
sinister  effects  of  which  we  have  abundantly  felt  —  that 
is,  the  propaganda,  show  us  educational  phenomena  that 
are  psychologically  of  great  interest  and  which  are  also 
unique  from  the  educational  point  of  view.  The  influence 
of  schools  seems  in  general  so  negative,  and  there  is  so 
little  connection  between  what  is  learned  as  fact  and  conduct 
in  the  practical  life  that,  even  in  the  case  of  the  German 
teaching  of  war  philosophy  we  must  suspect  that  this  teach- 
ing has  been  successful  only  because  it  has  gone  with  the 
strong  tide  of  feeling  in  the  popular  mind.  That  the  Ger- 
man schools  have  directly  and  indirectly  fostered  the  de- 
velopment of  ideas  that  lead  in  the  direction  of  war  there 
is  no  doubt.  Even  more  influential  than  the  specific  ideas 
that  have  been  implanted,  is  the  spirit  of  these  schools: 
it  is  their  militaristic  and  routine  life,  the  great  authority 


Religious  and  Moral  Influences  127 

assumed  by  the  teacher,  the  specialization,  that  has  helped 
to  nourish  the  warlike  spirit  of  Germany,  quite  as  much 
as  the  fact,  for  example,  that  Daniel's  Geography  teaches 
that  Germany  is  the  heart  of  Europe,  surrounded  by  coun- 
tries that  were  once  a  part  of  Germany  and  will  be  again. 
German  education,  we  say,  seems  to  be  unique  in  the 
extent  to  which  it  influences  public  sentiment  and  national 
conduct.  In  general,  education  has  appeared  among  the  in- 
fluences that  lead  to  war  rather  by  default  of  positive  teach- 
ing than  by  anything  positive  it  has  done.  Even  in  Ger- 
many, we  should  say,  the  spirit  of  war  has  been  made  to 
flourish  less  by  the  teaching  of  a  narrow  nationalism,  by 
inculcating  hatred,  and  implanting  wrong  conceptions  of 
German  history  than  by  failing  to  provide  youth  with  means 
of  deep  satisfaction,  by  failing  to  coordinate  deep  de- 
sires of  the  individual,  and  to  organize  individuals  in  a 
normal  social  life.  This  is  true  everywhere.  Education 
has  not  affected  life  as  a  whole,  and  it  has  not  thus  far 
been  an  influence  which,  to  any  appreciable  extent,  has  ac- 
celerated the  development  of  peoples  in  their  especially 
national  aspects  and  relations.  It  has  nowhere  fostered 
any  conception  of  the  whole  world  as  an  object  of  social 
feeling.  It  has  everywhere  accepted  a  certain  provincialism 
as  natural  and  necessary,  and  has  tacitly  assumed  that  na- 
tional boundaries  are  the  horizon  of  the  practical  life  of 
the  child.  The  school  has  in  fact  failed  to  take  advantage 
of  its  unmatched  opportunity  to  use  the  imagination  of  the 
child  to  develop  his  social  powers.  Sociologists  say  that  if 
sociologists  had  been  more  diligent  in  spreading  abroad 
information  about  the  social  life,  the  great  war  would 
perhaps  never  have  happened.  That  we  may  certainly 
doubt;  something  more  profound  must  be  done  by  educa- 
tion than  to  disseminate  knowledge,  if  it  would  undertake 
to  be  a  power  in  the  world  and  to  do  anything  more  than 
add  its  influence  to  the  tendencies  of  the  day.  or  perhaps 
temporarily  change  the  direction  of  these  tendencies. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ECONOMIC    FACTORS    AND    MOTIVES 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  the  motives  of  war  mainly 
from  the  psychological  point  of  view,  discovering  its  main 
movement  and  development  in  the  world  to  be  a  product 
of  the  psychic  forces  in  the  social  order.  This  method, 
however,  did  not  exclude  the  objective  facts,  and  did  not 
ignore  the  practical  motives.  We  found  that  war  is  a 
manifestation  of  many  tendencies,  and  in  fact  is  related 
to  all  the  deep  movements  in  the  life  of  society  and  of  the 
individual.  War  comes  out  of  the  whole  of  life  in  a  way 
to  preclude  the  interpretation  of  it  in  terms  of  any  single 
principle,  or  at  least  to  prevent  our  finding  a  single  cause 
of  war.  We  ought  to  try  to  see  now  how  such  a  psy- 
chological view  of  war  stands  in  relation  to  certain  more 
objective  views  of  it,  which  in  a  very  general  way  may 
be  said  to  be  centered  in  two  closely  related  views.  One 
is  that  war  is  almost  exclusively  an  economic  phenomenon, 
and  the  other  that  war  is  the  work  of  individuals.  One 
is  the  economic  interpretation  of  histor}-.  and  the  other  is 
the  great  man  view  of  history. 

We  still  see  a  lingering  theory  that  war  is  a  result  of 
the  ancient  migratory  or  expansion  impulse  —  that  over- 
population and  the  pressure  of  various  economic  condi- 
tions are  the  source  of  the  impulses  that  lead  to  war.  We 
have  seen  reasons  for  believing,  however,  that  war,  even 
in  the  beginning,  has  not  been  a  wholly  practical  matter. 
Hunger,  pressure  of  population,  migratory  movements  be- 
cause of  economic  conditions,  will  not  explain  the  origin 
and    the    persistence    of    wars.     Wars   are    not    simple    as 

128 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  129 

these  views  would  imply,  at  any  stage.  That  at  the  pres- 
ent time  economic  advantage,  whether  or  not  it  be  the 
motive  of  war,  is  in  general  not  gained  seems  to  be  very 
clearly  indicated.  The  taking  of  colonies  and  other  lands 
may  be  a  detriment  rather  than  a  gain  to  the  conquering 
nation.  The  industry  and  the  finance,  of  all  concerned 
in  war,  are  likely  to  suffer  disaster.  Peace  is  the  great 
producer  of  wealth.  War  is  a  terrible  destroyer  of  it. 
Ross  says  that  as  industry  progresses,  wars  become  con- 
tinually more  expensive  and  less  profitable,  that  the  drain 
is  not  upon  man  power  so  much  as  upon  economic  power; 
nations  bleed  the  treasure  of  one  another  until  some  one  of 
them  is  exhausted  and  must  yield. 

The  theory  that  war  is  caused  by  the  pressure  of  popu- 
lation, especially  as  applied  to  the  recent  war,  now  appears  to 
have  been  very  naive.  It  was  maintained  that  Germany 
needed  more  room  for  her  growing  population,  that  Ger- 
many must  have  more  land  at  home  and  more  colonies. 
Claes  (46),  among  several  writers,  shows  that  this  is  not 
true.  Germany  had  no  pressing  need  of  more  land,  except 
for  political  purposes,  or  such  land  as  provided  the  raw 
materials  for  her  military  industries.  Bourdon  (67) 
maintains  that  it  is  not  true  that  Germany's  population 
was  becoming  excessive.  Le  Bon  (42)  says  that  this 
theory  of  over-population  is  a  myth.  Still  others  have 
shown  that  in  a  country  that  is  rapidly  becoming  industrial, 
as  was  Germany,  where  population  is  becoming  massed  in 
the  great  cities,  emigration  ceases ;  and  that  actually,  in 
Germany's  case,  labor  was  imported  every  year,  and  that 
there  are  great  tracts  of  arable  land  in  Germany  still  but 
sparsely  populated.  Nicolai  (79)  also  attacks  the  theory 
that  war  is  sought  for  economic  gain  and  says  that  an 
economic  war  among  the  European  states  is  an  absurdity. 

The  need  of  colonies  is  often  put  forward  as  a  real 
and  also  a  legitimate  motive  for  war.  Colonies  must  be 
provided,  they  say,  for  the  overflow  of  population  from  the 


130  rii('   Psyciiology   of  Nations 

homeland;  colonies  are  the  foundation  of  the  trade  of 
nations  —  trade  follows  the  flag.  They  think  of  colonies 
as  the  offspring  of  nations,  and  nations  without  colonies 
seem  sterile  and  destined  to  extinction.  We  know  that 
Germany's  desire  for  colonies  is  one  of  the  causes  of  the 
European  crisis,  and  that  the  colonial  question  has  been 
a  fertile  cause  of  troul)le  in  Europe  for  many  years.  And 
yet  we  have  evidence  that  in  the  present  economic  stage  of 
the  world,  colonies  do  not  perform  to  any  great  extent 
either  of  the  functions  that  are  claimed  for  them.  Trade 
does  not  in  general  follow  the  flag;  industrial  nations  do  not 
need  colonies  either  to  provide  for  over-population  or  for 
commercial  reasons.  The  acquisition  of  colonies  does  not 
as  such  benefit  the  great  industrial  and  financial  interests. 
Why,  then,  do  nations  so  ardently  desire  colonies ;  and 
why,  without  colonies,  do  they  feel  themselves  inferior  and 
at  a  disadvantage?  Why,  in  a  stage  of  industry,  in  which 
it  is  presumably  more  to  their  advantage  to  conduct  ag- 
gressive campaigns  in  countries  already  densely  populated, 
are  nations  so  willing  even  to  fight  to  obtain  colonies? 
Powers  (75)  says  that  the  desire  for  colonies  comes 
from  the  idealistic  tendencies  of  nations.  This  appears 
to  be  true.  Correspondingly  we  find  that  colonies  are  of 
more  interest  to  general  staffs  and  admiralties  than  to  cap- 
tains of  industry.  Colonies  are  wanted  for  military  rea- 
sons, more  than  for  trade  reasons.  Colonies  are  desired 
as  bases  of  operation  in  the  game  of  empire  building  by 
conquest.  There  is  still  another  reason.  The  race  for 
colonies  perpetuates  an  ideal  \vhich  has  grown  out  of  an 
earlier  stage  of  the  life  of  nations.  Colonies  were  once 
actually  the  means  of  the  greatness  of  nations.  The  long- 
ing for  colonial  possessions,  for  the  extension  of  commerce, 
the  great  jealousy  and  apprehension  of  peoples  in  regard 
to  their  trade  routes,  and  the  fear  nations  have  for  their 
commerce,  quite  out  of  relation  to  present  needs  and  condi- 
tions, hark  back  to  an  old  romance  of  the  sea.     The  water- 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  131 

ways  of  the  world,  the  islands  and  new  continents  have  a 
traditional  appeal,  which  comes  down  to  us  from  the  days 
when  the  small  countries  of  Europe,  one  after  another  — 
Portugal,  Holland,  Spain,  England  —  became  great  in 
wealth,  and  grew  to  be  world  powers,  by  their  commerce 
and  their  colonial  possessions.  In  those  days  the  expansion 
of  nations  was  not  at  all  due  to  economic  pressure  at  home. 
The  landowners,  the  rulers,  the  privileged  class  in  general 
were  interested  in  colonies,  because  in  that  direction 
stretched  the  path  to  fabulous  wealth,  and  because  over  the 
seas  were  the  lands  of  adventure.  The  seeking  of  colonies 
was  both  the  business  and  the  pleasure  of  the  nations.  To- 
day the  gaining  of  colonies  may  be  only  a  loss  to  nations 
economically,  but  they  satisfy  the  craving  for  visible  em- 
pire, and  also  a  longing  that  is  deep  and  intense  because  tra- 
dition and  romance  are  deeply  embedded  in  it. 

Probably  no  one  now  believes  that  war  among  modern 
nations  is  due  to  a  pure  predatory  instinct  or  to  a  migratory 
instinct  which  is  supposed  to  have  led  primitive  hordes  to 
seek  new  habitats  and  to  prey  upon  other  peoples.  Hunger 
does  not  now  drive  people  in  companies  from  their  homes 
and  pour  them  into  other  lands,  although  it  is  true  that  any 
threat  which  excites  the  old  hunger-fear  tends  to  arouse 
the  war  spirit  and  to  stir  the  migratory  impulse;  and  a  deep 
sensitiveness  to  climatic  conditions  and  a  claustrophobia  of 
peoples  have  remained  long  after  the  need  of  land  has 
ceased  to  be  vital.  But  we  still  find  the  need  of  land  urged 
as  the  main  cause  of  war,  and  we  hear  war  justified  on 
the  ground  that  crowded  peoples  require  more  land.  This 
land  hunger  is  an  old  motive  and  it  still  remains  deep  in  the 
consciousness  of  peoples  long  after  its  economic  significance 
has  ceased.  Just  as  we  say  the  threat  of  hunger  is  often 
imagined,  and  the  fear  of  hunger  and  a  deep  and  persistent 
fear  of  peoples  and  the  sense  of  danger  of  being  engulfed 
and  destroyed  by  other  peoples  linger  in  consciousness,  so  the 
consciousness  of  the  old  struggle  for  land  remains  as  one  of 


132  Tlic   Psychology   of  Nations 

the  most  powerful  of  traditions,  and  any  threat,  near  or 
remote,  to  a  nation's  land  arouses  all  the  forces  of  the  war 
spirit,  and  the  thought  of  aggression  as  a  means  of  conquest 
of  land  is  always  alluring. 

Land  was  once  the  main  possession  and  the  main  need. 
To-day  it  is  the  chief  symbol  of  the  power  of  a  nation.  The 
possession  of  it  is  desired  when  it  gives  nothing  in  return, 
certainly  when  there  are  no  valid  economic  reasons  for  tak- 
ing it.  This  land  hunger  becomes  the  excuse  of  nations  for 
their  sins  of  aggression.  A  differentiated  society,  so  organ- 
ized that  only  the  few,  if  any  at  all,  can  by  any  possibility 
profit  by  the  taking  of  lands  still  hungers  for  this  primitive 
possession.  To  a  great  extent  land  as  a  national  possession 
has  an  ideal  rather  than  a  practical  value.  It  was  one  of  the 
original  sources  of  prestige  and  distinction,  having  become 
the  main  material  interest  of  man  as  soon  as  he  came  to 
have  fixed  abode.  The  whole  historic  period  of  the  world 
has  been  a  story  of  a  struggle  for  land.  It  is  the  memory 
of  this  land  struggle,  which  is  one  of  the  deep  motives  of 
war,  which  often  determines  the  strategy  of  war,  and  the 
policies  of  nations. 

Precisely  how  the  system  of  great  land  ownership  orig- 
inated is  obscure.  Sumner  (70)  says  that  the  belief  that 
nobles  have  always  held  lands,  and  are  noble  by  reason 
of  this  possession,  is  false.  Nobles  have  in  one  way  and 
another  enriched  themselves  and  bought  land :  or  rather 
having  acquired  land  they  have  succeeded  in  acquiring  titles 
of  nobility,  and  establishing  their  lines.  In  all  nations 
which  have  retained  any  traces  of  the  feudalistic  form, 
and  to  some  extent  everywhere,  land  continues  to  be  the 
basis  of  wealth,  and  also  of  power,  and  the  land-owning 
classes  are  still  mainly  the  ruling  classes.  This  land-own- 
ing class  is  still  dominated  by  the  old  traditions  of  the  landed 
aristocracy.  It  is  the  fighting  class,  and  supplies  great  num- 
bers of  of^cers  for  the  armies.  It  upholds  the  idea  of 
national  honor  in  its  ancient  forms  as  related  to  private 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  133 

honor;  it  provides  the  great  number  of  diplomatic  and 
decorative  officers.  Japan,  Russia,  Germany  and  to  some 
extent  England,  at  least  up  to  the  time  of  the  war.  have 
retained  feudalistic  institutions,  and  the  land  interest  still 
remains  as  a  motive  of  war.  In  all  these  nations,  certainly 
in  those  which  have  remained  feudalistic  in  fact,  it  is  the 
aristocratic  and  owning  class  that  usually  represents  the  war 
interest.  It  both  rules  and  owns.  It  sends  out  the  peasant 
and  the  worker  to  extend  the  state.  It  is  the  protected  class. 
Laws  and  constitutions  favor  it.  Taxes  fall  lightlv  upon 
it.  Originally  this  was  the  class  that  received  all  the  benefits 
of  war.  To-day  it  suffers  less  from  war  than  do  other 
classes.  Even  when  it  does  not  gain  by  war  in  a  material 
way,  it  is  likely  to  gain  in  power  (100). 

We  have  seen  this  system  of  class  rule  at  work  in  very 
recent  times,  and  it  is  a  question  whether  the  old  ideal  of 
land  possession  did  not  work  to  the  ruin  of  Germany 
economically,  and  indirectly  antagonize  the  industrial  in- 
terests of  the  nation.  German  politics  had  been  trying  to 
serve  two  masters,  who  were  not  entirely  in  agreement. 
Germany  was  still  a  country  of  landed  proprietors,  and 
these  proprietors  always  have  thrown  their  weight  to  the 
side  of  war.  They  were  by  no  means  dominated  by  a 
motive  of  pure  greed,  and  they  did  not  seek  war  entirely 
for  their  ow^n  advantage,  but  because,  we  might  say,  they 
are  ruled  through  and  through  by  motives  that  can  be 
satisfied  only  in  a  militaristic  state  of  society.  Their  gain 
from  a  successful  war  is  mainly  a  gain  in  prestige  and  dis- 
tinction. An  unsuccessful  war,  as  we  have  seen,  threatens 
their  extinction  as  a  class.  All  democratic  movements  tend 
toward  land  division,  or  is  indeed  in  part  precisely  this 
process.     Aristocracy  without  land  cannot  maintain  itself. 

The  economic  theory  of  war  comes  to  its  own  in  the 
view  that  industry  now  controls  the  world,  that  industry  is 
the  power  behind  politics,  and  that  industrial  needs  are 
the  real  energies  that  make  wars.     We  live  in  an  industrial 


134  ^^^^  Psychology   of  Nations 

age,  they  say,  and  industry  rules.  Plainly  to  find  the  whole 
truth  about  this  relation  of  industry  to  war  is  no  simple 
matter.  There  are  at  least  three  more  or  less  separate  ques- 
tions involved  in  it.  We  need  to  know  whether  an  indus- 
trial state  of  society,  or  the  industrial  stage  of  economic  de- 
velopment, is  especially  prone  to  cause  wars,  as  distinguished 
from  more  general  political  and  economic  interests.  We 
need  to  know  whether  wars,  in  an  industrial  stage,  do  really 
serve  either  the  interests  of  industry  or  countries  as  a  whole. 
Finally,  there  is  the  question  whether  those  who  control  in- 
dustry and  finance  do  actually  create  wars. 

In  the  industrial  and  financial  stages  of  economic  de- 
velopment new  conditions  arise  which  certainly  must  be 
taken  into  account  in  any  theory  of  war.  There  are  deep 
changes  in  national  life.  The  moods  of  the  city  become 
a  new  force  or  a  new  factor  in  national  life.  Socialistic 
ideas  and  new  aspects  of  nationalism  and  patriotism  ap- 
pear. There  is  a  spirit  of  unrest;  both  pessimistic  and 
optimistic  tendencies  in  society  are  increased ;  the  motive  of 
power  takes  new  forms,  and  there  is  a  deep  stirring  of 
fundamental  feelings  and  impulses.  The  crowd  instincts, 
the  old  hunger  motives,  are  felt  beneath  the  surface  of  life. 
This  is  the  effect  of  industrialism  upon  the  psychic  forces 
of  peoples  in  their  collective  aspects.  Nations  also  become 
as  wholes  more  specialized  in  the  industrial  life;  they  are 
dependent  upon  one  another  as  never  before.  All  the 
ancient  motives  of  commerce  are  stimulated,  and  the  minds 
of  nations  revert  to  the  old  fears  and  the  old  romance  con- 
nected with  the  thought  of  the  seas.  The  growing  in- 
terdependence of  nations  produces  a  peculiar  and  para- 
doxical condition.  Competition  in  regard  to  markets 
arises,  with  all  the  complications  and  strains  that  we  have 
seen  in  recent  years.  There  are  new  motives  of  aggression, 
but  at  the  same  time  the  need  and  motives  for  peace  are 
increased.  Industries  in  general  thrive  best  in  an  era  of 
assured  peace.     They  live  upon  the  wealth  and  prosperity 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  135 

they  themselves  create.  Intrigue,  not  force,  is  their  proper 
weapon.  Le  Bon  (42)  says,  that  the  desire  to  create 
markets  was  not  the  cause  of  the  great  war,  because  expan- 
sion went  on  very  well  in  the  time  of  peace.  Germany  had 
no  aggressive  designs  except  commercial  designs  we  are 
told.  Mach  (95)  tells  us  Germany's  whole  future,  the 
success  of  her  carefully  laid  plans  for  industrial  develop- 
ment and  supremacy,  depended  upon  continued  peace. 

That  such  views  of  the  relation  of  industry  to  war  are 
in  the  main  correct  can  hardly  be  doubted.  Industrial  rela- 
tions create  strains  among  nations,  but  when  as  a  result 
of  these  strains  war  occurs  it  must  be  regarded  as  a  dis- 
aster from  the  point  of  view  of  the  industrial  interests.  In- 
dustry we  say  thrives  upon  the  wealth  that  it  creates.  A 
war  which  destroys  half  the  wealth  of  the  world  must  be 
a  calamity  for  all  great  industries  except  at  the  most  a 
very  few  having  peculiar  relations  to  the  activities  of  war. 

But  there  is  another  aspect  of  the  relations  of  industry 
to  war.  Industrialism  as  a  great  institution  and  movement 
of  modern  life  becomes  in  itself  a  political  power.  Howe 
(100)  says  that  with  the  end  of  Bismarck's  wars  per- 
sonal wars  and  nationalistic  wars  came  to  an  end.  The 
old  aristocracy  of  the  land  merged  with  the  new  aristocracy 
of  wealth  and  this  wealth  has  become  the  great  political 
power  in  the  world.  But  this  is  only  a  half  truth.  Industry 
has  become  a  factor  in  the  foreign  relations  of  nations,  and 
has  become  a  power  in  politics,  but  the  motives  and  powers 
we  call  political  are  exceedingly  complex,  and  the  interests 
of  business,  industry  and  finance  are  by  no  means  the  whole 
of  or  coincident  with  political  interests.  There  are  of 
course  certain  industries  and  financial  interests  which  may 
even  instigate  wars,  and  some  writers  give  them  a  high 
place  among  the  causes  of  war.  Especially  the  makers  of 
munitions  and  armaments  are  credited  with  a  baneful  in- 
fluence in  the  world.  With  their  international  understand- 
ings, their  influence  in  legislative  bodies,  their  control  of 


136  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

newspapers,  they  are  open  to  the  charge  of  manipulating 
puhhc  sentiment,  and  bringing  influence  to  bear  upon  gov- 
ernments. They  are  accused  of  equipping  small  countries 
and  setting  them  against  one  another,  of  delil>erately  en- 
couraging the  race  for  military  and  naval  supremacy.  No 
one  can  doubt  that  their  opportunities  for  trouble-making 
are  many  and  enticing,  but  to  think  of  these  influences  as 
anything  more  than  the  incidental  and  secondary  causes  of 
war  seems  to  be  a  curious  way  of  understanding  history 
(100). 

The  inside  history  of  the  great  financiering  projects 
would  no  doubt  give  us  some  of  the  main  clews  to  the 
present  diplomatic  relations  of  nations  to  one  another.  If 
we  take  into  account  the  various  intrigues  in  connection 
with  the  building  of  the  Bagdad  route,  the  financing  of  -the 
Balkan  States  in  their  wars,  the  bargaining  of  the  Powers 
in  Turkey  for  financial  concessions,  the  great  business  inter- 
ests involved  in  the  Russo-Japanese  war,  the  loans  to  China 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  financial  history  of  a  few  decades  we 
should  have  in  hand  materials  that  no  one  could  deny  the 
importance  of  for  an  understanding  of  current  history. 
Diplomacy  has  had  added  to  its  already  complex  duties  the 
art  of  securing  financial  advantages.  In  general  the  art  of 
this  diplomacy  is  to  secure  these  advantages  without  war, 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  financial  relations  have  mul- 
tiplied the  points  of  contact  and  strain  among  peoples,  and 
that  these  financial  relations  have  become  the  main  occa- 
sional causes  of  wars.  Howe  (100)  thinks  that  surplus 
capital  is  to  blame  for  a  great  many  of  the  great  disasters 
of  modern  times  —  that  it  destroyed  Egyptian  independ- 
ence, led  France  into  Morocco,  Germany  into  Turkey,  and 
into  the  farther  East,  embroiled  the  Balkan  States ;  and  that 
the  great  war  has  been  a  conflict  over  conflicting  interests 
of  Russia,  England  and  Germany  in  Turkey.  Under  the 
guise  of  expansion  of  trade  this  invisible  wealth  has  been 
exploiting   the   most   vital   interests   of    foreign   countries. 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  137 

Veblen  would  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  wars  are  govern- 
ment-made, that  patriotism  is  exploited  by  governments 
in  advance  of  pre-arranged  hostilities  to  produce  the  spirit 
of  war  (97). 

If  we  hold  that  these  economic  causes  are  now  the  most 
important  causes  of  wars,  it  is  easy  to  accept  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  most  fundamental,  and  even  perhaps  the  sole 
cause  of  war  is  the  evil  principle  of  ownership,  as  is  actually 
maintained  by  many  economists.  If  men  in  cliques,  and 
men  as  individuals  did  not  own  privately  great  parts  of 
the  wealth. 'of  the  world,  these  conflicts  in  which  wealth 
and  its  distribution  are  the  .most  vital  interests  would  not 
take  ^place.  Many  socialists,  we  know,  hold  these  views, 
asserting  that  wars  are  due  solely  to  industrial  competi- 
tion among  nations,  and  to  the  fact  that  industrialism  is 
based  upon  the  wholly  wrong  principle  of  private  owner- 
ship. Hullquist,  a  socialist,  -says  that  wars  are  likely  to 
become  more  frequent  and  more  violent  as  the  capitalist  sys- 
tem of  production  approaches  its  climax.  The  working 
classes,  the  socialists  say,  who  have  nothing  permanent,  are 
the  natural  enemies  of  war;  the  capitalists,  who  have  much 
and  want  more,  are  constantly  placing  peace  in  jeopardy. 
The  protective  system  of  tariff  also  receives  much  abuse 
from  these  writers.  Novicow  (71)  places  the  tariff  sys- 
tem high  among  the  causes  of  war.  The  belief  that  it  is 
good  to  sell  and  bad  to  buy,  he  says,  is  the  great  trouble 
maker  in  the  world.  This  was  also  the  principle  of  Cobden 
the  great  English  free-trader  of  the  middle  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. The  Manchester  school  of  which  he  was  the  leader 
would  do  away  with  wars  by  making  the  world  economically 
a  unit. 

Veblen  (97)  charges  the  price  system  with  being  a  fun- 
damental cause  of  war,  and  says  that  it  must  now  come 
up  for  radical  examination  and  perhaps  modification.  The 
theory  of  the  rights  of  property  and  contract  which  have 
been  taken  as  axiomatic  premises  by  economic  science  may 


138  The  Psychuloc/y   of  Nations 

itself  fail,  or  at  least  be  thrown  open  to  question.  Either 
the  price  system  will  go,  or  there  will  be  wars  between  na- 
tions in  the  future  as  there  have  been  in  the  past,  because  of 
the  need  of  protection  of  ownership  rights,  and  because  of 
the  nationalism  these  rights  create.  To  some  extent  these 
rights  of  property  have  been  curtailed,  Veblen  remarks; 
the  old  feudalistic  rights  have  in  large  part  been  annulled, 
and  the  world  is  at  least  owned  by  more  people  than  was 
once  the  case.  That  these  changes  and  readjustments  of 
property  rights  will  be  carried  still  further  he  thinks  there 
can  be  no  doubt. 

Stevens  draws  similar  conclusions  about  the  evil  effects 
of  property  rights.  The  great  war  and  all  wars,  he  asserts, 
are  based  upon  existing  social  conditions  —  upon  the  or- 
ganization of  the  family,  the  school,  the  state,  the  church, 
upon  the  institution  of  property,  with  its  corollaries  of 
foreign  markets  and  other  industrial  relations.  Protec- 
tion of  trade,  which  works  in  the  interest  of  the  owner 
classes,  indirect  taxes  which  fall  upon  the  consumer,  the 
labor  system  by  which,  at  the  present  time,  the  laborer  re- 
ceives but  a  small  share  of  the  profits,  but  must  become 
when  necessary  the  defender  of  the  interests  in  which  he 
does  not  share  —  all  these  things  we  hear  being  charged 
vigorously  with  being  the  causes  of  wars,  including  the 
recent  great  conflict.  This  system  is  blamed  not  only  for 
our  great  international  wars,  but  it  is  looked  upon  as  the 
germ  of  wars  to  come,  internal  wars,  when  international 
wars  shall  have  ceased,  or  temporarily  have  been  abated. 
When,  perhaps,  the  restrictions  that  assume  that  the  gain 
of  one  country  is  the  loss  of  another  have  satisfactorily  been 
adjusted,  the  system  that  maintains  that  the  capitalist  can 
prosper  only  at  the  expense  of  the  laborer  will  come  up  for 
final  settlement  (97). 

All  these  views,  from  a  psychological  point  of  view,  seem 
to  be  open  to  the  criticism  that  they  tend  to  consider  the 
world  one-sidedly  and  by  a  certain  abstraction.     They  are 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  139 

dealing  with  a  world  governed  only  by  economic  laws.  It 
is  easy  to  construct  these  ideal  worlds.  They  are  simple 
and  they  lend  themselves  readily  to  the  purposes  of  a 
political  calculus.  Finding  economic  motives  in  individual 
life,  in  the  social  life  and  in  politics,  and  in  history  it  is 
tempting  both  to  explain  the  past  and  plan  the  future  in 
terms  of  the  entities  and  principles  of  economics.  But 
after  all  it  is  only  when  we  consider  economic  motives  in 
their  relations  to  all  the  motives  behind  human  conduct  that 
we  are  likely  to  see  the  economic  motives  in  history  in  their 
true  light.  Then  we  shall  very  much  doubt  whether  prop- 
erty has  been  in  any  real  sense  the  cause  of  wars,  or  that 
the  abrogation  of  property  rights  will  be  the  means  of  estab- 
lishing perpetual  peace.  We  shall  see  that  economic  mo- 
tives themselves  are  but  aspects  of  deeper  motives,  and 
involve  desire  for  objectives  that  are  not  sought  for  their 
material  value,  and  also  objectives  that  are  not  material  at 
all.  The  process  of  development  of  present  human  society, 
so  far  back  as  we  can  see,  and  as  far  into  the  future  as  we 
can  with  any  confidence  predict,  seems  to  contain  as  a  neces- 
sity some  form  and  degree  of  human  slavery.  This  ap- 
pears to  be  inherent  in  the  fact  itself  of  the  existence  of  in- 
dividual wills,  having  in  any  degree  individual  or  personal 
interests  as  they  must,  and  the  impossibility  of  devising  any 
social  order  or  government  that  will  give  to  the  individual 
an  ideal  freedom,  if  such  a  conception  be  indeed  possible 
at  all.  We  may  conjecture  at  least  that  in  a  world  in  which 
every  trace  of  an  economic  motive  had  been  removed,  if  this 
were  possible,  there  would  still  be  slavery  of  some  kind,  and 
the  inexorable  logic  of  individuality  would  in  the  end  pro- 
duce conflict  and  war. 

Nations,  like  individuals,  live,  and  they  pass  through 
certain  stages  that  seem  in  a  general  way  to  be  necessary 
phases  of  their  development.  During  this  process  of  de- 
velopment certain  objects  become,  one  after  another,  of  the 
most  vital  concern  because  they  are  necessary  to  the  satisfac- 


140  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

tion  of  the  motives  which  guide  the  lives  of  these  nations. 
But  these  objects  are  never  so  delinitely  marked  ofif  that 
they  become  to  the  exclusion  of  other  motives  the  causes 
of  wars.  The  social  life  is  never  so  simple  as  this  would 
imply.  The  past  is  always  involved  in  the  present.  One 
after  another  certain  types  of  economic  objects  l:)ecome  more 
or  less  central  in  the  interests  of  nations,  but  the  minds  of 
nations,  like  those  of  individuals,  are  always  influenced  by 
the  tradition.  Objects  are  desired  with  reference  to  the 
satisfaction  of  motives  that  represent  complex  and  general 
desires.  There  are  ideal  objects  as  well  as  material  objects; 
and  the  material  object  is  often  sought  because  of  its  possi- 
ble use  as  a  means  of  satisfying  the  desire  for  ideal  values. 
First  food,  then  land,  then  commerce,  then  industry,  then 
wealth  itself, —  this  has  been  the  order  in  which  eco- 
nomic values  have  become  objects  for  the  consciousness  of 
people  as  groups,  and  have  become  involved  in  and  more 
or  less  completely  represent  the  relations  among  peoples 
w^e  call  political.  That  which  is,  relatively  speaking,  an 
object  of  necessity  at  one  stage  tends  to  become  an  ideal 
or  romantic  object  of  the  next  stage.  The  relations  of 
economic  objects  to  the  desires  of  nations  and  to  war  are 
complex  and  not  precisely  what  they  may  on  the  surface 
appear  to  be.  Nations,  like  individuals,  do  not  know  what 
they  need,  and  they  do  not  even  understand  clearly  what 
they  desire.  Their  desires  are  complex :  elementary  eco- 
nomic motives,  political  motives,  personal  motives,  the 
motives  of  industry  and  finance,  the  motive  of  power  and 
the  craving  for  certain  states  of  consciousness  all  exist  to- 
gether, and  to  some  extent  antagonize  one  another.  The 
present  practical  desire  is  confused  by  the  traditional  ob- 
ject. The  will  of  a  nation  is  a  composite  will,  and  its  his- 
tory is  full  of  contradictory  impulses,  and  also  full  of  sur- 
prises. Nations  often  think  they  are  fighting  for  economic 
reasons  when  their  real  motives  are  plainly  to  gain  military 
distinction.     The  reputation  is  quite  as  satisfying  as  any 


Economic  Factors  and  Motives  141 

material  prosperity  gained.  There  is  an  illusion  and  a 
delusion  about  it  all.  All  these  economic  advantages  that 
nations  are  always  seeking  have  something  unreal  about 
them.  Nations  seek  them  long  after  they  represent  real 
values.  Nations  seek  colonies  when,  if  business  is  what 
they  want,  it  could  better  be  obtained  nearer  home.  Finance 
looks  for  advantages  overseas,  when  there  are  quite  as 
safe  investments  at  home  paying  quite  as  large  profits.  Na- 
tions have  desires  to  do  great  things,  not  merely  to  live  and 
prosper. 

That  is  the  way  these  economic  problems  of  war  appear, 
at  least  when  they  are  examined  in  relation  to  other  aspects 
of  war  and  of  society.  These  economic  problems  are 
merged  into  and  subordinate  to  the  political  or  the  historical 
problems,  and  economic  causes  of  war  must  be  considered 
with  reference  to  the  psychological  principles  that  are  at 
the  bottom  of  all  social  development. 


CHAPTER  X 

POLITICAL    AND    HISTORICAL    FACTORS 

We  think  of  political  causes  of  war  mainly  as  an  aspect  of 
the  fact  that  nations  desire  always  certain  geographical  ob- 
jectives. These  desires  are  represented  in  part  by  the  poli- 
cies of  governments  and  leaders,  but  we  must  also  think  of 
nations  as  a  whole  as  having  desires,  and  as  being  moved  by 
profound  purposes.  At  once  the  question  arises  whether 
we  shall  think  of  these  political  objectives,  and  the  wars 
the  desires  for  them  cause,  as  essentially  the  objects  and  the 
work  of  individuals.  Do  individuals  in  any  real  sense  cre- 
ate history?  This,  of  course,  is  a  profound  question  and 
involves  fundamental  theories  of  history.  Shall  we  accept 
the  "  great  man  "  theory  of  history,  and  say  that  history  is 
mainly  the  work  of  a  few  who  are  able  to  shape  events  with 
reference  to  policies  of  their  own,  or  shall  we  think  that 
forces  that  determine  history  reside  rather  in  the  instincts 
or  desires  of  the  common  life  of  the  people? 

A  psychological  study  of  history  inclines  us  to  the  belief 
that  the  forces  that  make  history  are  mainly  forces  that  do 
not  exist  as  conscious  purposes  and  are  therefore  not  essen- 
tially political  forces.  One  of  the  conditions  of  leadership 
seems  to  be  that  the  leader  shall  seek  his  own  personal  ends 
and  realize  his  own  purposes  for  his  country  only  within 
the  field  of  the  traditional  and  common  objectives  which  are 
held  by  the  people  as  a  whole  as  their  purpose  in  history. 
These  are  the  materials  with  which  the  leader  must  work. 
Historically  his  work  may  seem  decisive.  Psychologically 
it  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  complex  effect  of  lawfully  related 
social  reactions.     The  motives  of  leader  and  people  must 

142 


Political  and  Historical  Factors  143 

have  large  common  factors.  The  leader  holds  his  power 
and  his  prestige  by  embodying  in  his  own  will  and  repre- 
senting in  his  own  conscious  policies  the  will  of  the  people 
and  their  idea  of  country  as  an  historic  entity.  The  leader 
is  leader  only  in  so  far  as  he  is  recognized  as  representing 
the  will  of  the  "  herd."  As  genius,  this  leader  is  manifestly 
creative,  but  the  true  genius  in  statesmanship  is  even  rarer 
than  genius  elsewhere.  The  great  leader  is  an  artist.  He 
must  take  certain  vague  or  clear  ambitions  of  the  people, 
must  accept  the  nation's  historic  objectives  as  the  founda- 
tions of  his  policies,  and  working  with  these  objects  and  de- 
sires make  his  own  page  of  history.  His  glory  and  his  pres- 
tige depend  upon  his  fulfilling  deep  desires  of  his  people. 
The  forces  with  which  he  deals  are  plastic,  but  only  within 
narrow  limits.  Leadership  at  best  is  a  fragile  thing. 
However  autocratic  the  power,  it  is  after  all  dependent  upon 
the  good  will  of  the  people,  and  the  acceptance  of  the  leader 
as  one  who  is  serving  the  interests  of  the  people. 

When  we  consider  the  nature  and  the  objects  of  the  am- 
bitions and  desires  that  the  statesman  or  leader  must  fulfill, 
we  see  why  the  relations  of  ruler  to  people  are  difficult  to 
understand.  Nations  do  not  know  with  clearness  either 
what  they  desire  or  why  at  heart  they  desire  the  objectives 
that  seem  of  most  importance.  People  give  economic  and 
political  reasons,  but  the  consciousness  of  nations  is  subject 
to  deep  moods,  and  is  influenced  by  remote  events  and  tra- 
ditions. Nations  have  generic  desires  as  well  as  specific 
ones.  They  always  crave  empire ;  they  all  desire  to  have 
rank.  They  are  always  ambitious,  jealous  and  watchful  of 
one  another.  These  general  and  more  or  less  subconscious 
desires  make  their  desires  for  specific  objects  intense,  but 
they  also  make  them  peculiarly  irrational.  The  heroic  ex- 
amples of  history,  hereditary  emotions  and  the  effects  of 
specific  events  in  the  history  of  peoples  complicate  their 
politics,  and  often  make  rational  politics  impossible.  Na- 
tions will  not  act  in  their  own  best  interests,  because  they 


144  ^^'^  Psychology  of  Nations 

are  governed  by  irrational  motives.  In  this  way  certain 
disparities  are  often  produced  between  the  people  and  their 
practical  statesmen,  but  history  seems  to  show  us  that  when 
these  disparities  exist  in  the  region  of  fundamental  desires 
and  policies  it  is  the  leader  who  must  yield.  History  seems 
to  show  us  also  that  wars,  coming  in  general  out  of  the 
deeper  motives  of  nations,  do  not  belong  to  such  an  extent  as 
is  often  supposed  to  the  realm  of  politics.  Political  causes 
are  often  incidental  causes  and  determine  the  time  and  place 
of  wars  but  do  not  create  them.  Cramb  (66)  says  that 
w-ars  persist  in  spite  of  their  unreason,  because  there  is  some- 
thing transcendental  that  supports  them,  and  this  transcen- 
dental purpose  is  the  desire  for  empire.  Powers  (75)  says 
that  nations  fight  for  tangible  things  and  also  for  intangible 
things.  The  tangible  things  are  existence,  commerce,  inde- 
pendence, territory;  nations  also  desire  objects  that  are  not 
useful,  the  worth  of  which  consists  in  their  satisfaction  of 
taste.  The  ambition  to  own  colonies,  Powers  thinks,  is  of 
this  nature.  Colonies  are  quite  as  much  ornamental  as  they 
are  useful.  They  convey  the  feeling  and  impression  of 
power. 

That  these  deep  desires  of  nations  as  expressed  in  the  am- 
bition to  reach  certain  geographical  objectives  are  exceed- 
ingly strong,  often  if  not  always  irrational,  brutally  arro- 
gant and  tenacious,  the  whole  course  of  history  teaches  us. 
These  desires  are  indeed  the  forces  behind  historical  move- 
ments. They  create  politics  and  policies.  War  preexists 
in  these  irrational  purposes.  These  purposes  are  charged 
with  emotion,  with  prejudice,  and  tradition.  It  is  with 
these  motives  that  all  practical  politics  must  contend,  and 
these  motives  are  the  forces  that  the  statesman  must  use  and 
make  more  rational. 

The  purposes  of  nations  are  usually  if  not  always  we 
say  obscure  and  deep,  existing  in  the  form  of  ideals  and 
tendencies,  and  likely  to  take  the  form  of  visions  of  empire 
wholly  unrealizable.     And  yet  there  are  always  certain  per- 


Political  and  Historical  Factors  145 

fectly  clear  objectives  upon  which  all  the  force  of  these 
half  understood  motives  impinge.  These  objectives  may  or 
may  not  be  economically  rational  or  morally  justifiable. 
We  always  know  with  certainty  certain  of  these  objectives 
for  which  any  nation  will  if  necessary  fight.  These  objec- 
tives have  often  a  long  history  behind  them.  They  are 
surrounded  by  tradition,  sincerely  and  even  religiously 
sought.  They  are  ideal  objects  which  nations  feel  they 
have  a  right  to  possess.  Every  nation  apparently  believes 
itself  the  logical  possessor  of  something  it  does  not  now 
hold  (99).  All  peoples  have  their  longings  for  these  pos- 
sessions, which  are  their  vision  of  a  greater  self.  These 
objects  are  often  desired  for  reasons  that  are  clear  enough 
to  all ;  but  they  are  also  often  but  the  symbols  of  deeper  de- 
sires. As  such,  nations  act  toward  them  with  almost  in- 
stinctive compulsion. 

We  may  suppose  that  no  great  historical  event  is  ever 
enacted  that  is  not  determined  more  by  traditional  desires 
than  by  conscious  politics.  A  thousand  years  of  strife  have 
provided  the  motives  for  the  great  European  war.  Mem- 
ories of  time-honored  objectives  have  arisen  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  many  peoples,  and  these  memories  cannot  be 
recalled  without  exciting  passions  that  make  all  rational 
politics  unavailing.  Europe  has  been  fighting  over  again 
her  battles  of  the  past,  and  at  the  moment  of  the  present 
writing  is  carrying  them  into  the  conference  of  peace.  The 
plans  of  statesmen  and  the  intrigues  of  finance  have  but  lit- 
tle success  in  contending  against  these  forces.  Since  the 
leaders  themselves  are  not  free  from  the  prejudices  and  the 
compulsion  of  traditions  and  the  unconscious  desires  and 
deep  impulses  which  move  their  people,  they  can  with  but 
dubious  success  bring  international  politics  into  the  sphere 
of  reason.  They  do  not  represent  merely  the  selfish  de- 
sires of  their  people.  They  are  not  merely  spokesmen  of 
the  interests  of  class  or  individual.  They  are  embodiments 
of  the  whole  history  of  their  nations. 


146  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

All  history,  and  all  the  present  relations  of  nations  to 
one  another  may,  of  course,  be  considered  in  terms  of  the 
desires  for  specific  objectives  caused  by  the  imperial  desires 
of  peoples,  these  desires  themselves  being  regarded  as  a 
sum  of  motives,  the  effects  of  past  political  relations,  and 
containing  both  rational  and  irrational  elements.  The 
world  is  a  vast  field  of  stress  in  which  the  powers  at  work 
are  national  wills  rather  than  political  forces  as  the  projects 
of  rulers  and  the  diplomats.  These  powers,  when  fully 
aroused,  are  quite  beyond  the  control  of  statesmen  acting  in 
their  ordinary  capacities,  and  their  final  issues  no  historian 
ought  now  to  try  to  predict.  History  has  been  full  of  sur- 
prises because  of  the  nature  of  the  forces  which  create  his- 
tory, and  these  surprises  seem  to  have  been  sometimes  the 
greatest  for  those  who  were  most  intimately  concerned  in 
making  history.  Events  seldom  run  smoothly  according  to 
well  laid  plans. 

It  would  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  a  psychological  study 
of  war  to  describe  or  analyze  the  complex  system  of  strains 
that  exist  in  the  world  to-day,  and  to  point  out  the  condi- 
tions that  led  to  the  great  war  would  be  for  the  most  part 
unnecessary,  since  they  must  be  obvious  to  all.  The  main 
items  in  such  a  study  of  history,  however,  may  well  be  re- 
called to  mind.  One  would  need  to  show  the  effects  of  Eng- 
land's irresistible  development  through  several  centuries ; 
the  struggle  for  the  control  of  the  Mediterranean ;  Ger- 
many's efforts  to  extend  her  empire  toward  the  East,  and 
the  closing  of  doors  against  Germany's  advance ;  Russia's 
pressure  upon  the  Teutonic  peoples,  the  ancient  and  terrible 
dread  of  Russia  on  the  part  of  the  nations  of  Western  Eu- 
rope, the  shadow  under  which  Turkey,  Germany,  and  Eng- 
land had  lived  because  of  the  presence  of  the  great  Slavic 
state,  with  its  mysticism,  its  dynastic  ambitions  and  its  great 
growth  force,  its  need  of  open  ports,  and  vital  interest  in  the 
amalgamation  of  the  South  Slavic  peoples,  and  the  determi- 
nation to  own  Constantinople  and  to  succeed  to  the  place  of 


Political  and  Historical  Factors  147 

the  Turkish  Empire.  We  should  need  to  take  into  account 
the  long  history  of  the  struggle  for  colonies,  the  colonial 
trust  of  Russia,  England  and  France,  the  ambitions  of 
France  for  empire  in  Africa,  the  operations  of  French 
finance  in  the  Balkans  and  elsewhere,  Austria's  aggressive 
hatred  of  Serbia,  and  her  effort  to  prevent  the  revival  of 
Poland,  the  conflicts  of  Germany  and  Austria  with  Italy 
in  regard  to  the  yEgean  and  the  Adriatic  and  their  shores, 
the  fierce  irredentism  of  Italy,  and  the  ambitions  of  Italy 
that  have  brought  her  into  conflict  with  the  Teutonic  pow- 
ers and  with  Turkey,  all  the  conflicting  purposes  and  am- 
bitions of  Greece,  Roumania,  Bulgaria,  and  Serbia,  and  the 
added  strain  in  the  Balkans  because  of  the  vital  interests  of 
all  the  Great  Powers  there,  and  many  other  conflicts  and 
causes  of  conflicts.  These  conflicts  we  see  repeated  in  kind 
in  the  relations  of  Japan.  China  and  Russia  and  the  other 
powers  interested  in  the  geography  of  Asia,  and  in  the 
waters  of  the  Pacific,  and  once  more  in  the  growing  strains 
between  the  East  and  the  West  (99). 

Taking  our  world  as  we  find  it,  and  viewing  the  nature 
of  nations  in  the  light  of  their  history  and  of  their  per- 
sistent antagonisms,  one  might  readily  believe  that  the  causes 
of  war  and  war  itself  will  continue  into  a  far  future.  No 
war,  the  pessimist  might  well  argue,  will  destroy  national 
vitality  or  neutralize  the  many  points  of  strain.  There 
may  be  great  coalitions  and  even  Leagues  of  Nations,  but 
these  may  only  make  wars  more  terrible  when  they  come. 
The  friendship  of  nations  will  still  be  insecure  and  shifting. 
The  great  strategic  points  of  the  world  will  remain.  Small 
countries  will  continue  to  be  ambitious  and  jealous  of  one 
another.  Island  countries  will  still  be  faced  by  coasts  that 
contain  possibilities  of  danger.  The  Constantinoples  and 
the  Gibraltars  will  remain ;  Suez  and  Panama  will  be  left, 
and  Verdun  will  still  be  something  more  than  a  historic 
memory  (99). 

That  these  objectives  might  all  be  brought  into  a  perma- 


148  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

ncnt  state  of  eqiiilihrium,  by  some  ideal  world  politics,  that 
nations  ou(/ht  to  abandon  their  ideas  of  empire  or  at  least 
see  how  crude  these  ideas  are,  how  out  of  relati(jn  to  our 
modern  ideas  of  value,  and  how  out  of  place  in  a  practical 
world  —  all  this  we  can  readily  understand,  but  who  will 
expect  nations  to  become  very  different  from  what  they 
are  now.  and  who  shall  say  how  many  imperial  eggs  there 
are  in  the  world  yet  to  be  hatched?  There  are  many  ways 
of  justifying  these  ambitions  —  Germany  justifies  hers  by 
reason,  and  the  researches  of  her  great  historians  —  the 
Treitschkcs  and  the  Mommsens;  Russia  bases  her  claims 
upon  her  religion  and  her  ethos;  Japan  brings  her  divinity 
and  her  traditions,  her  vitality  and  her  intelligence  ;  England 
ofTers  her  justice  and  above  all  her  proved  genius  for  gov- 
ernment as  a  justification  of  empire.  But  after  all,  these 
desires  for  empire  lie  deeper  than  proof  and  reason  can  go. 
Poetic,  dramatic  and  religious  elements  enter  into  them. 
There  are  geniuses  among  nations.  The  creative  force  in 
a  nation  is  its  life  force,  its  essence  and  its  reality.  In  some 
sense  the  desire  to  be  an  empire  is  the  whole  meaning  of  a 
nation,  for  without  the  ambition  to  be  supreme,  peoples, 
some  of  them,  would  be  nothing.  It  is  the  vision  of  empire, 
however  forlorn  and  hopeless,  that  keeps  many  nations  alive, 
perhaps  all.  Nations  seek  to  express  in  visible  form  the 
evidence  of  their  inner  and  potential  greatness.  The  his- 
toric and  time-honored  art  of  empire-building  is  the  only 
art  they  know.  Whether  this  is  the  tragedy  of  history,  the 
world's  fate  and  the  condemnation  of  it  to  perpetual  war- 
fare —  or  is  but  a  term  in  the  logic  by  which  nations  rise 
to  other  and  higher  forms ;  or  finally  is  a  crime  or  a  mistake 
which  it  is  within  the  power  of  the  will  of  man  to  abandon 
or  amend  —  these  are  problems  of  the  philosophy  of  history. 


Political  and  Historical  Factors  149 

Historical  Causes 

Historical  causes  of  war  are  in  part  the  sequences  of 
events  that  the  poHtical  causes  of  war  produce  (political 
as  the  causes  inherent  in  the  wills  of  nations),  and  we  must 
suppose  they  are  mainly  this.  History,  from  this  point  of 
view,  is  the  working  out  of  the  motives  or  the  desires  con- 
tained in  these  national  wills.  The  causes  of  our  late  war, 
for  example,  are  to  be  sought  mainly  in  the  wills  of  the 
great  pow  ers  that  are  concerned  in  it.  Economic  forces,  the 
laws  of  the  growth  of  nations  (both  psychological  and 
physical  laws),  the  conditions  of  the  geographical  distribu- 
tions of  peoples  over  the  earth  —  all  these  are  involved  in 
the  cause  of  wars.  There  are  also  great  personages  whose 
actions  must  to  some  extent  be  considered  apart  from  these 
general  laws;  these  personages  contribute  factors  to  the 
causation  of  any  given  war  that  are  not  entirely  inherent  in 
the  laws  of  growth  or  the  psychology  of  nations.  Shall  we 
say  also  that  there  are  fortuitous  factors,  historical  causes 
that  are  not  contained  in  any  logic  of  human  desires?  Can 
we  say,  perhaps,  that  these  fortuitous  causes  are  indeed  the 
main  causes  —  in  a  word  that  wars  are  not  desired,  mainly, 
but  are  the  product,  indeed,  either  of  the  mere  logic  of 
chance,  or  of  a  design  that  transcends  human  will  alto- 
gether? Are  wars  willed,  or  are  they  the  results  of  the 
complex,  the  illogical  and  uncontrollable  factors  of  the 
world's  existence  and  movement?  These  may  not  be  prac- 
tical problems,  but  they  are  serious  problems,  since  in  the 
end  they  implicate  the  whole  of  philosophy. 

What  place  shall  we  give,  in  the  laws  of  history,  to  the 
sudden  and  chance  turn  of  affairs;  to  the  quick  shift  of  the 
wheels  of  fortune:  to  the  incidents,  the  accidents,  the  mis- 
judgments  of  rulers  and  the  slips  of  the  diplomats?  Are 
wars  after  all  a  product  of  the  logic  of  life,  or  are  they 
mere  fortuitous  syntheses  of  events  which  in  their  particu- 
lar combination  make  a  total  that  is  not  involved,  either  as 


150  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

desire  or  as  tendency,  in  the  sum  of  the  particulars  that  enter 
into  the  whole?  liovv  completely,  in  a  word,  do  the  inter- 
ests and  purposes  of  nations  determine  wars?  May  we 
speak  of  motives  that  always  tend  to  produce  wars,  but  never 
seem  to  will  them? 

History  seems  to  show  us  that  wars  are  less  directly  willed 
than  we  have  sometimes  supposed,  and  perhaps  that  there 
is  a  large  element  of  chance  in  them  as  regards  a  given  war 
at  any  time  and  in  any  place.  War  in  general  is  inherent  in, 
or  is  a  natural  effect  of,  the  laws  of  development  of  nations. 
Wars  as  historical  events  are  not  completely  describable  in 
terms  of  these  laws.  It  is  the  old  contrast  between  the  his- 
torical and  the  scientific  explanation  of  things  that  appears 
here.  Nations  have  deep  and  vague  desires,  we  say.  They 
want  satisfaction  of  their  honor;  they  crave  a  dramatic  life, 
even  military  prestige  and  glory,  but  we  do  not  often  find 
war  itself  definitely  willed.  The  desires  of  nations,  we  re- 
peat, tend  to  be  too  fundamental  to  be  specific.  Their  spe- 
cific desires  are  indeed  and  for  that  reason  likely  to  be  con- 
tradictory. They  desire  both  war  and  peace  at  the  same 
time,  and  have  interests  that  may  be  served  by  both.  They 
live  in  indecision  like  individuals.  Motives  conflict.  They 
hesitate,  and  doubt,  and  fear.  They  shrink  from  taking  the 
plunge.  It  requires  the  sharp  and  clear  event,  the  chance 
■event,  most  often,  to  precipitate  them  into  wars.  It  is  al- 
ways to-morrow^  that  they  are  to  wage  wars.  So  wars  do 
not  usually  occur  by  the  rational  plans  and  devices  of  any 
man  or  any  historical  secjuences  of  men,  we  may  believe,  and 
it  is  a  question  whether  wars  are  very  often  intended  in  a 
real  sense  by  any  one.  Wars  occur  as  crises  in  events. 
The  strains  that  produce  them  are  certainly  inherent  in  the 
relations  of  nations  at  all  times,  and  even  in  the  motives  of 
personal  politics,  but  in  general  these  relations  as  consciously 
governed  relations  are  in  the  direction  of  seeking  the  greatest 
advantage  with  the  least  show  of  force.  The  conditions 
must  all  be  present,  both  the  match  and  the  powder,  before 


Political  and  Historical  Factors  151 

war  can  take  place.  There  must  be  a  condition  of  strain, 
having  certain  psychological  features  none  of  which  can 
be  missing,  the  condition  being  something  complex  and  not 
readily  analyzable,  at  any  given  time.  In  addition  to  these 
strains  events  must  take  place  which,  in  all  their  appear- 
ances, are  fortuitous. 

One  might  argue  from  this  that  the  cure  of  war  consists 
in  eternal  watchfulness  to  see  that  the  match  does  not  touch 
the  powder,  that  we  must  watch  these  events  that  precipi- 
tate wars  and  safeguard  peoples  from  being  affected  by 
them.  This,  of  course,  is  more  or  less  the  method  of 
diplomacy;  to  some  minds  the  league  of  nations  is  a  device 
for  doing  this  on  a  larger  and  more  systematic  scale.  But 
when  we  study  history  and  see  what  these  war-causing  inci- 
dents are,  how  numerous  and  how  variable,  we  can  see  that 
diplomacy  and  statesmanship  undertake  an  impossible  task 
when  they  try  to  steer  the  world  along  its  narrow  historical 
course,  with  only  historical  landmarks  for  guides. 

The  war  that  is  so  vividly  in  mind  now  furnishes  us  with 
an  illustration  of  the  complexity  of  the  causes  of  war,  and 
allows  us  to  see  clearly  contrasting  views  of  the  causal  fac- 
tors in  great  wars  in  general.  We  see  here  a  closely  fitting 
series  of  events,  each  in  itself  having  but  little  reference  to 
the  great  crisis,  all  fitting  together,  and  for  want  of  any  one 
of  which,  if  one  takes  the  purely  historical  view,  we  might 
suppose  the  war  would  never  have  happened,  or  might  have 
been  postponed  indefinitely.  If  Venezelos,  to  go  back  no 
further  than  that,  had  remained  in  Crete  and  had  been  con- 
tent to  be  an  island  politician,  would  not  the  course  of 
events  in  the  Balkans  have  been  very  different?  Out  of  his 
course  came  events  which  no  one  could  have  foreseen,  but 
which,  without  similar  actions  on  the  part  of  individuals 
producing  other  links  in  the  chain,  would  not  have  taken 
place.  If  some  diplomat  or  some  foreign  office  had  made  a 
decision  slightly  different  from  what  was  actually  decided; 
if  the  three  emperors  had  had  a  little  more  reliable  infor- 


152  'llic   Psychology   of  iWations 

mation  about  one  another;  if  the  statisticians  of  the  German 
service  had  computed  a  little  better  England's  resources, 
and  had  put  the  moral  factor  into  the  sum  —  would  the 
war  have  happened  at  all  ? 

In  this  direction,  of  course,  lies  the  chaos  of  history  and 
its  madness  —  and  also  its  philosophy.  We  may  be  driven 
on  the  one  hand  to  think  of  all  history  as  a  matter  of  the 
chance  relations  of  individuals  and  of  detached  particular 
events,  having  significance  as  a  series  but  never  planned  or 
controlled  as  a  whole,  or  we  may  resort  to  the  opposite  way 
of  thinking,  and  say  that  all  of  history,  in  every  particular 
and  detail,  is  divinely  planned  and  prearranged,  and  each 
event  fits  into  a  rational  whole.  This,  of  course,  is  our 
final  problem  of  history,  we  say,  as  it  is  the  final  problem 
of  every  question  that  considers  life  as  concrete  events 
having  value  precisely  as  the  particular  sequence  that  it  is  — 
when  we  view  life  historically,  in  a  word,  rather  than  by  the 
methods  of  the  quantitative  sciences,  or  by  the  genetic 
methods  such  as  are  used  mainly  in  the  psychological  sci- 
ences, and  which  we  may  say  stand  between  history  and  the 
sciences  of  matter. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    SYNTHESIS   OF    CAUSES 

It  appears  to  be  no  very  difficult  matter  to  discover  causes 
of  war,  and  indeed  a  considerable  number  of  causes.  In 
fact  the  problem  seems  to  yield  an  embarrassment  of  riches, 
especially  if  our  chief  interest  happens  to  be  a  practical 
one,  and  we  wish  to  find  the  causes  of  war  in  order  to  see 
how  they  may  be  controlled.  We  might  even  have  discov- 
ered all  the  causes  of  war  and  still  be  as  far  as  before  from 
any  real  understanding  of  the  cause  of  war.  Unless  one 
can  know  the  relative  importance  of  the  causes,  and  the 
manner  in  which  the  causes  combine  to  produce  wars ;  unless 
the  results  give  in  some  way  a  synthetic  view  of  the  causes 
of  war,  show  dominating  causes,  or  reveal  a  total  cause 
which  is  not  merely  a  summation  of  stimuli,  but  is  both 
a  necessary  and  a  sufficient  situation  for  the  production  of 
war;  unless  we  have  shown  some  fundamental  cause  and 
movement  in  the  social  order,  we  are  still  left  in  search  of 
the  cause  of  war. 

We  have,  indeed,  found  a  number  of  causes  of  war,  but 
at  the  same  time  the  causes  have  not  appeared  to  exist  as 
separate  causes.  We  are  always  catching  sight  of  a  move- 
ment in  the  development  of  nations  and  of  the  world  —  of 
certain  fundamental  motives,  the  most  basic  of  all,  the  most 
general,  being  the  motive  of  power.  These  causes  of  war 
do  not  appear,  however,  to  be  of  the  nature  of  a  chain,  giv- 
ing us  the  impression  that  in  order  to  break  the  habit  of 
war,  all  we  need  do  is  to  discover  the  weakest  link  in  the 
chain  of  causes,  break  the  chain  there,  and  so  interrupt  the 
whole  mechanism  of  war-making  in  the  world.     Above  all, 

153 


154  riie  Psychology   of  Nations 

althouf^:!!  fortuitous  events  as  causes  of  war  must  not  be 
overlooked,  war  is  not  continually  being  made  anew  by  the 
appearance  again  and  again  of  accidental  situations,  which 
are  thus  to  be  regarded  as  the  cause  of  war. 

War  is,  first  of  all,  a  natural  expression  of  the  social  life, 
resting  primarily  upon  the  fact  of  the  existence,  universally, 
of  groups  of  individuals  acting  as  units.  But  here  cause 
and  effect  are  lost  in  one  another.  Conflict  cements  the 
group,  and  the  existence  of  the  group,  again,  is  the  cause 
of  conflict.  War  is  an  aspect  of  the  social  solidarity  of 
the  group  acting  under  certain  conditions,  and  these  condi- 
tions are  the  presence  of  deep  desires  that  can,  in  general, 
be  satisfied  only  by  the  exertion  of  force  on  the  part  of  com- 
munities acting  as  wholes. 

These  primitive  motives  and  moods  of  war  that  we  find 
in  the  nature  of  the  social  group  itself,  emerge  finally  in 
three  aspects  of  the  life  of  nations,  and  it  is  these  aspects 
of  the  life  of  nations  that  appear  to  us  as  the  causes  of  war. 
They  are  not  separate  and  independent  features  of  the 
social  life,  and  it  is  in  part  only  for  the  sake  of  convenience 
that  they  are  sharply  separated  at  all.  They  are  all  at 
bottom  manifestations  of  the  motive  of  power  that  runs 
through  all  history,  and  all  the  social  and  individual  life. 
On  one  side  this  motive  appears  in  moods  and  impulses  that 
we  called  the  "  intoxication  "  moods  and  impulses.  Na- 
tional honor  was  found  to  be  another  effect  of  it.  The 
political  motives  of  war  are  its  concrete  expression.  These 
motives  all  together  —  all  being  but  phases  of  a  deep,  pow- 
erful energy  and  purpose,  are  the  source  of  the  main  move- 
ment in  history  out  of  which  war  comes.  In  this  movement 
all  the  motives  of  the  social  life  are  always  present  and 
active  at  the  same  time.  The  good  and  the  bad  of  national 
life  are  phases  of  a  single  purpose  and  are  not  two  con- 
trasted principles  or  moments.  The  past  is  always  con- 
tained in  the  present. 

War,  then,   is  the  result  of  certain  motives   which  are 


The  Synthesis  of  Causes  155 

fundamental  to  the  group  life.  It  is  a  natural  form  in  which, 
given  a  certain  degree  of  intelligence  and  of  complexity  of 
the  social  life,  these  motives  express  themselves.  All  the 
motives  and  forms  of  expression  are  present  in  germ  at 
least  from  the  beginning  of  the  development  of  the  social 
life.  Considering  the  whole  history  of  war  we  see  that  it 
is  a  part  of  a  very  complex  movement  in  human  society,  and 
yet  that  no  war  appears  to  be  the  final  term  of  a  process  of 
inexorable  logic.  Taking  history  as  a  whole,  we  see  that 
the  natural  laws  involved  and  the  nature  of  the  social  con- 
sciousness make  a  state  of  war  from  time  to  time  highly 
probable,  but  war  is  not  a  necessary  consequence  of  any 
natural  law.  Nations  are  self-conscious  personalities. 
Perhaps  in  the  future  they  may  change  their  ways,  abandon 
voluntarily  their  desires,  subject  themselves  to  discipline,  or 
deliberately  invent  a  plan  of  international  relations  that  will 
have  the  effect  of  eliminating  war  from  their  lives  alto- 
gether. 

It  is  always  dangerous,  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  always 
tempting  to  try  to  explain  national  life,  or  all  life  and  his- 
tory, in  terms  of  the  individual  and  his  experience.  Once 
more,  however,  we  may  yield  to  that  temptation  and  say 
that  the  world  to-day  is  in  a  stage  of  development  which 
has  many  traits  that  show  its  relation  in  some  very  signifi- 
cant ways  to  certain  undeveloped  conditions  found  in  indi- 
viduals, which  in  fact  always  appear  as  phases  of  the 
life  of  all  individuals  in  some  degree  and  form.  Nations 
have  acquired  a  high  degree  of  subjectivism,  partly  on  ac- 
count of  the  geographical  conditions  under  which  they  have 
lived,  and  the  many  barriers  between  nations  due  to  differ- 
ence of  origin  and  of  language,  and  the  fundamental  emo- 
tions of  fear  and  jealousy  which,  as  we  have  seen,  play  so 
large  a  part  in  the  life  and  conduct  of  groups.  Nations, 
however  close  to  one  another,  have  remained  isolated  in 
spirit :  they  have  lacked  both  the  initiative  and  the  means 
for  becoming  definitely  related  to  one  another  in  purposive 


156  riic   Psyu  lioloffy   of  ?\  nitons 

and  sustainerl  activities.  Therefore  all  their  relations  have 
remained  highly  emotional,  suhjective,  influenced  by  mysti- 
cism, filled  with  hatred  and  fear,  hero  worship  and  illusion. 
Nations  have  lacked  both  the  power,  and  we  might  say,  the 
organs,  for  externalizing  their  spirit.  They  have  dreamed 
dreams  and  played  plays,  and  followed  their  illusions  of 
empire.  Even  their  wars  have  not,  until  perhaps  now,  be- 
come wholly  real  and  serious  in  a  measure  commensurate 
with  their  powers  and  resources.  The  present  war  more 
than  any  other,  and  more  than  any  other  event  in  history, 
represents  an  escape  on  the  part  of  nations  from  their  sub- 
jectivism, and  a  beginning,  it  may  be,  of  the  realization  of 
a  more  mature,  or  shall  we  say  more  normal  conception  of 
the  world.  Nations  have  played  at  being  great  and  have 
really  produced  but  little  true  greatness.  Now,  let  us  say, 
their  dream  is  over.  We  see  that  these  nations  can  no 
longer  play.  Their  wooden  weapons  have  at  last  been 
turned  to  steel.  They  can  fight  no  longer  indeed  without 
destroying  one  another.  They  must  now  live  in  practical 
and  moral  relations,  give  up  their  bright  dreams  of  empire 
after  the  old  heroic  order,  and  be  content  to  be  imperial  (if 
they  are  born  to  be  imperial)  by  performing  distinguished 
service  in  the  world,  by  their  own  genius  of  leadership. 
There  is  work  in  the  world  for  nations  to  do ;  there  are  em- 
pires of  the  spirit,  it  may  be.  greater  than  have  yet  been 
dreamed  of  in  the  nations'  childish  philosophies  of  life. 
The  consciousness  of  nations  contains,  it  may  be,  unsus- 
pected powers,  suppressed  in  the  past  by  narrow  national- 
ism, by  fear,  habit  and  convention.  These  powers  may 
now,  if  ever,  blossom  forth;  they  have  been  wasted  too 
long  in  patriotic  feeling  and  in  idle  dreamery.  They  must 
now  show  what  they  can  do  in  a  practical  world  that  will 
have  no  more  of  mere  assertions. 

The  world  stands  to-day  balanced  between  two  ideals. 
Human  spirit,  the  spirit  of  nations,  is  a  free  and  plastic 
force;  it  is  also  a  sum  of  motives  and  desires;  but  most 


The  Synthesis   of  Causes  157 

fundamentally  of  all  it  is  a  growing,  living,  creative  and 
personal  spirit.  It  still  clings  to  its  luxuries  of  feeling,  to 
its  provincial  life,  it  is  still  fascinated  by  its  beautiful  ro- 
mance of  empire.  On  the  other  hand  we  see  the  stirring 
of  a  new  idea.  A  new  world  arises,  less  dramatic  in  its 
appeal  than  the  old  world,  but  a  world  appealing  by  its 
practical  problems  both  to  the  will  and  to  the  intellect. 
Shall  we  yield  to  the  fascination  of  the  old  romance  and  go 
back  to  our  hero  worship ;  or  shall  we  be  inspired  now  by 
this  vision  of  a  new  and  greater  social  order,  create  out  of 
our  own  powers  of  imagination  the  forms  this  world  must 
assume  if  it  is  to  appeal  to  the  deepest  feelings  of  all  peo- 
ples, and  make  this  new  world  real  by  our  own  intelligence 
and  determination? 

We  stand  to-day  at  a  dramatic  moment  in  history ;  a  more 
dramatic  moment  than  when  the  victory  itself  hung  in  the 
balance.  Perhaps  our  sense  of  responsibility  for  the  future 
is  an  illusion ;  perhaps  we  are  driven  by  an  inexorable  logic 
of  history,  and  we  do  not  after  all  choose  what  our  world 
shall  be.  But  certainly  the  sense  of  human  power  in  the 
world  has  never  been  greater  than  now  nor  seemed  better 
justified;  nor,  if  we  are  deceived,  has  the  reality  ever  been 
more  out  of  harmony  with  the  ambitions  of  man. 


PART  II 

THE  EDUCATIONAL  FACTOR  IN  THE  DEVELOP- 
MENT OF  NATIONS 


CHAPTER  I 

EDUCATIONAL    PROBLEMS    OF    THE   DAY 

Education,  like  all  other  institutions,  has  been  charged, 
we  know,  with  having  contributed  its  share  to  the  causes  of 
the  war.  The  Prussian  school  system,  we  have  been  told, 
was  mainly  a  school  of  war;  all  the  emotions  and  ideas  nec- 
essary to  produce  morbid  nationalism,  distorted  views  of 
history,  and  a  belief  in  and  a  love  of  war  were  there  fostered 
and  deliberately  cultivated.  There  is.  of  course,  some  truth 
in  this;  it  is  a  truth  that  is  deceiving,  however,  if  we  regard 
it  as  at  all  indicating  the  true  relation  betw^een  education  and 
practical  affairs.  If  the  school  was  a  factor  in  the  late 
war,  such  a  creative  effect  of  education  appears  to  be  rare 
in  history.  In  general  it  is  the  negative  effect  of  the  school 
that  is  most  conspicuous.  It  is  what  the  school  has  not 
done  to  prevent  war,  what  it  has  failed  to  do  in  not  bringing 
nations  out  of  their  perverted  nationalism  into  a  life  of 
more  practical  relationship  with  one  another  that  really  best 
characterizes  the  school. 

It  is  difficult  or  impossible  for  us  now,  of  course,  to 
perceive  what  the  war  has  done  —  in  what  way,  all  in  all, 
the  future  will  be  different  from  the  past.  It  is  very  easy 
and  natural  to  look  at  everything  dramatically  now,  see 
revolution  everywhere  and  believe  that  all  institutions 
are  now  to  be  radically  changed.  Or,  going  to  the  other 
extreme,  we  may  become  cynical,  and  say  that,  human  na- 
ture being  unchangeable,  we  shall  soon  settle  down  into  the 
old  routine  and  we  shall  see  presently  that  nothing  revo- 
lutionizing has  transpired.     Some  will  say,  and  indeed  are 

saying  that  education   must   now   be   entirely   remodeled; 

i6i 


1 62  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

some  will  think  that  education  had  l)cst  go  on  as  before  — 
that  nothing  has  happened  certainly  to  require  any  new 
philosoi)hy  of  the  school,  or  any  profound  change  in  its 
form.  We  see  these  two  tendencies  in  many  phases  of  our 
present  situation:  in  politics,  in  education,  and  in  the  busi- 
ness world. 

It  is  impossible,  we  may  repeat,  to  make  wholly  safe 
judgments  now  about  the  future,  but  still  something  must 
in  the  meantime  be  done.  We  must  either  stand  still  or  go 
forward  —  or  backward ;  we  must  act  either  with  a  theory 
or  without  one.  The  school  is  involved  in  this  necessity. 
There  is  a  new  content  of  history  that  we  cannot  ignore, 
but  must  in  some  way  teach.  We  must  say  something  al)out 
the  war ;  current  events  can  hardly  be  kept  out  of  the  school, 
and  to  understand  current  events  there  must  be  a  wider 
content  of  history  than  we  have  had  in  the  past.  There 
are  new,  or  at  least  disturbed,  conditions  in  the  industrial 
and  in  all  the  social  life,  and  these  conditions  cannot  fail 
to  have  some  effect  upon  the  school.  The  school  must 
adjust  itself  to  them,  and  it  must  surely  take  into  account 
new  needs  that  have  arisen.  Patriotism  may  need  to  be 
taught  now,  or  taught  in  a  different  manner.  There  is  a 
problem  of  war  and  peace,  the  question  of  what  ideals  of  na- 
tional life  we  are  to  convey.  Internationalism  demands 
some  recognition  on  the  part  of  the  school.  It  seems  prob- 
able, therefore,  and  even  necessary  that  a  new  interest  in  the 
function  of  education  will  be  felt  and  must  be  aroused. 
Must  we  not  indeed  now  examine  once  more  all  the  founda- 
tions upon  which  our  ideas  about  education  rest  ?  Certainly 
there  will  never  be  a  more  favorable  time,  or  more  reasons 
for  such  a  task. 

It  is  the  impending  internationalism,  or  the  idea  of  in- 
ternationalism now  so  vividly  put  before  us  all,  that  most 
incites  new  thought  about  education,  and  about  all  the 
means  of  controlling  the  ideas  and  feelings  of  the  people. 
W^e  hear  much  about  reconstruction  and  r^-adjustment.  and 


Educational  Problems  of  the  Day  163 

these  terms  obviously  imply  the  old  ways  and  the  old  in- 
stitutions. But  internationalism  is  something  new,  having 
many  possibilities;  it  means  new  relations  among  peoples; 
it  opens  up  new  practical  fields  and  new  phases  of  sociology 
and  economics.  It  is  because  of  this  new  phase  of  the 
social  life  and  social  consciousness  of  man,  we  might  sup- 
pose, that  education  is  most  likely  to  be  affected  in  its 
foundations,  so  that  no  mere  readjustment  will  be  enough. 
A  new  politics  and  a  new  science  of  nations  appear,  and 
we  cannot  fail  to  see  that  there  is  at  the  present  time 
something  decidedly  lacking  in  education ;  that  there  is  a 
larger  life  perhaps  for  which  our  present  ways  of  educating 
children  would  not  sufficiently  prepare,  and  that  to  prepare 
for  this  larger  life  something  more  would  be  needed  than 
an  added  subject  in  the  curriculum.  This  is  because  inter- 
nationalism is  not  simply  more  of  something  we  have  al- 
ready; it  is  a  turn  in  the  road,  and  a  turn  which,  it  can 
hardly  be  denied,  will  finally  affect  all  institutions.  If 
internationalism  has  come  to  stay,  it  will  need,  and  it  must 
have,  powerful  support  from  all  educational  forces.  It 
will  need  something  more  than  support ;  education  must 
produce  creative  habits  of  mind,  which  shall  make  and 
nourish  new  relations  in  the  world,  and  it  must  make 
people  intelligent,  so  that  they  can  understand  what  the 
new  and  larger  relations  mean  and  what  must  be  accom- 
plished by  them. 

A  casual  observation  of  the  educational  situation  might 
indicate  that  education  is  limited  in  two  ways,  so  far  as 
being  a  means  of  meeting  our  present  needs  is  concerned. 
It  is  lacking  in  pozccr;  it  treats  children  and  youths  still  in 
a  fragmentary  way,  and  the  process  of  learning  is  some- 
what detached  from  the  totality  of  living.  There  is  a  lack 
of  richness  of  content,  and  a  lack  of  responsiveness  in  the 
school  to  the  stirring  life  outside  the  school.  If  we  may 
say  that  history  now  turns  a  new  page,  and  that  society 
stands  at  a  change  of  tide,  education  is  also  in  a  peculiar 


164  The  Psycholoijy   of  Nations 

and  interesting  position.  The  school  may,  from  now  on,  if 
our  view  of  it  be  at  all  just,  be  expected  U)  do  one  of  two 
things:  it  may  settle  down  to  a  relatively  successful  work, 
in  a  limited  sphere  of  usefulness,  training  children  well, 
especially  fitting  them  to  enter  into  our  present  social 
order;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  the  school  may  now  become 
a  much  greater  power,  and  may  seize  hold  upon  fundamental 
things  in  life  and  society  under  the  stimulus  of  new  con- 
ditions —  find  a  way  to  a  deeper  philosophy,  a  more  con- 
sistent theory,  attain  a  more  exalted  mood  and  higher  pur- 
pose, and  become  a  far  more  potent  factor  in  civilization. 

That  education  will  remain  unaffected  in  profound  ways 
by  the  war,  is  difficult  to  believe.  One  may  very  readily, 
as  we  say,  see  these  impending  changes  in  too  dramatic  a 
way.  and  begin  to  talk  about  profound  upheavals  and 
ideals  that  certainly  will  never  be  realized  ( and  we  ought 
to  guard  against  this  easy  idealizing,  which  leaves  human 
nature  out  of  the  reckoning)  ;  still  we  cannot  but  feel  that 
in  some  way  a  new  dimension  has  been  added  to  the  social 
life  as  a  result  of  the  war,  and  that  education,  in  dealing 
with  this  greater  society,  must  itself  be  raised  to  a  higher 
powder.  If  we  think,  educationally  speaking,  in  terms  of 
a  world  at  all.  rather  than  in  terms  of  individuals,  or  com- 
munities, families  and  nations,  we  are  quickly  impressed 
by  the  sense  of  living  in  a  new  order  of  educational  prob- 
lems, and  possessing,  it  may  be,  a  new  variety  of  self-con- 
sciousness. Nations  in  this  new  view  are  thought  of  as 
parts  of  a  world,  as  having  many  external  relations,  whereas 
formerly  almost  all  education  has  had  reference  at  the  most 
to  the  internal  life  of  nations.  Patriotism  has  been  the 
expression  of  its  most  distant  horizon. 

If  we  believe  that  anything  new-  is  about  to  be  realized 
in  education,  it  might  seem  natural  to  begin  to  think  about 
changes  from  the  standpoint  and  in  the  terms  of  the  old 
chapters  and  topics.  We  might  ask  what  this  or  that  sub- 
ject of  the  curriculum  means  or  must  produce  that  it  did 


Educational  Problems  of  the  Day  165 

not  mean  and  did  not  produce  before;  or  we  might  consider 
the  old  and  the  new  requirements  in  the  education  of  the 
feelings,  the  will,  the  intellect;  or  we  might  take  any  other 
of  the  educational  categories  as  a  basis  for  a  discussion  of 
the  philosophy  of  the  school.  These  programs,  however, 
do  not  seem  to  be  very  inspiring.  Would  it  not  be  better 
now  to  try  to  distinguish  the  main  fields  of  life  and  the 
main  interests  in  regard  to  which  new  questions  and  new 
needs  have  arisen,  and  see  what  changes  in  our  educational 
thought  are  really  demanded  by  them  ?  On  such  a  plan,  in- 
ternationalism itself  would  first  demand  attention,  and 
indeed  most  of  all.  In  a  sense  all  questions  about  educa- 
tion must  now  be  considered  with  reference  to  international- 
ism in  some  way.  Then  there  are  the  problems  already 
raised  during  the  war  and  widely  discussed,  about  the  teach- 
ing of  patriotism.  Patriotism  becomes  a  new  educational 
problem,  a  chapter  in  our  theory  of  education,  in  which  we 
become  conscious  of  ourselves  in  a  new  way,  and  are  aware 
of  our  larger  field  and  changed  conditions.  There  are 
questions,  too,  about  the  teaching  of  the  lessons  of  the  war, 
what  we  shall  think  about  war  in  general  as  a  good  or  an 
evil,  how  we  shall  conceive  peace  and  its  values.  Changes 
are  taking  place  in  government,  and  in  our  ideas  of  govern- 
ment, and  governments  are  being  put  to  new  tests.  Political 
education  can  hardly  fail  to  be  now  one  of  our  most  serious 
concerns.  Democracy  appears  to  be  our  great  word;  the 
control  and  education  of  the  democratic  forces  and  the 
democratic  spirit  becomes  an  urgent  need.  Industry  ac- 
quires new  meanings ;  we  must  take  up  again  all  the  theory 
of  industrial  education,  for  we  have  seen  of  late  that  in- 
dustry contains  possibilities  of  evil  we  did  not  before  un- 
derstand. Social  problems  arise  in  changed  forms.  The 
new  world-idea  or  world-consciousness  becomes  an  educa- 
tional problem  of  the  social  life.  Class  difiference  can  never 
again  be  ignored  as  it  has  been  in  the  past  in  the  schools. 
Moral,   religious  and  aesthetic  education  seems  to  have  a 


1 66  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

different  place  in  the  school,  just  to  the  extent  that  all  life 
has  become  more  serious  on  account  of  the  war.  These 
demands  made  upon  the  deepest  elements  of  the  psychic  life 
suj:^gest  the  need  once  more  of  a  new  philosophy  of  educa- 
tion, or,  at  the  least,  a  greatly  increased  recognition  and 
application  of   the   philosophy  we  already   have. 

Before  the  war  there  was  a  sense  of  security  and  the 
feeling  that  our  education  was  adequate  to  meet  all  de- 
mands. We  were  proud  of  our  educational  system.  Our 
democratic  ideals,  people  said,  were  safe  in  the  hands  of  the 
public  school.  Industrial  education  was  meeting  fairly 
well  the  needs  of  the  industrial  life.  There  were  no  very 
pressing  class  problems.  The  troubles  of  capital  and  labor, 
although  always  threatening,  seemed  to  demand  no  educa- 
tional interference.  The  religious  problem  was  temporarily 
not  acute.  Aesthetic  forms  had  been  attended  to  in  the  cur- 
riculum sufficiently  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  day.  Hy- 
giene and  physical  education  and  individual  attention  seemed 
to  be  making  rapid  advances.  All  of  these  had  been  in- 
fluenced by  the  scientific  methods  of  treating  educational 
questions.  On  the  whole  we  seemed  to  have  a  good  school. 
But  now  the  question  must  be  asked  whether  this  school  of 
yesterday  w^ill  be  adequate  to  meet  the  needs  of  to-morrow ; 
whether  new  conditions  do  not  call  for  new  thought,  new 
philosophy,  new  schools.  These  things  of  course  cannot 
be  had  for  the  asking.  We  cannot  give  orders  to  genius 
to  produce  them  for  us.  But  a  generation  that  does  not 
hope  for  them,  we  might  suspect  of  not  having  realized 
what  the  war  has  cost.  For  so  great  a  price  paid  have 
we  not  a  right  to  expect  much  in  return,  especially  if  we 
are  willing  to  regard  the  war  as  a  lesson  rather  than  as 
a  debt  to  us.  and  bend  all  our  energies  to  m.ake  it  count 
for  a  better  civilization? 

We  may  already  see  in  a  general  way  what  the  effect 
of  the  war  is  to  be  upon  the  mind  of  the  educator.  The 
journals  begin  to  be  filled  with  plans  for  the  participation 


Educational  Problems  of  the  Day  167 

of  the  school  in  the  work  of  reconstruction.  There  are 
many  suggestions  for  the  improvement  of  the  school.  In- 
dustrial education,  the  classics,  history,  military  education, 
social  education  are  all  being  discussed.  Evidently  many 
minds  are  at  work.  Some  of  them,  indeed  many  of  them, 
are  apparently  most  concerned  about  what  changes  we 
shall  make  at  once  in  the  day's  work  of  the  school.  Many 
wish  to  know  what  we  are  going  to  do  now  with  Latin, 
or  history,  and  how  we  can  improve  the  method  of  teach- 
ing in  this  or  that  particular.  But  there  are  some  deeper 
notes.  Thinkers  are  asking  elementary  questions  about 
the  whole  of  human  nature.  They  wish  to  know  what  the 
original  nature  of  man  is,  and  what  the  limits  of  our  con- 
trol over  human  nature  are.  Such  books  as  Hocking's 
"  Human  Nature  and  its  Re-making  "  and  Russell's  "  Prin- 
ciples of  Social  Reconstruction,"  which  grapple  with  the 
basic  problems  of  human  life,  are  signs  of  the  times.  No 
one  can  yet  predict  what  the  final  result  of  the  increased  in- 
tellectual ardor  that  has  come  out  of  the  war  will  be,  but  it 
seems  certain  that  that  striving  of  the  mind  which  has  made 
the  literature  of  the  war  so  remarkable  a  page  in  the  history 
of  the  human  spirit  will  continue,  and  in  the  field  of  educa- 
tion as  elsewhere  in  the  practical  life  there  will  be  new 
vitality  and  earnestness. 


CHAPTER  II 

INTERNATIONALISM    AND   THE   SCHOOL 

If  we  take  a  serious  and  an  optimistic  view  of  education 
as  a  social  institution,  and  think  of  it  at  all  as  standing 
in  functional  relationships  with  the  social  life  as  a  whole, 
we  must  conclude  that  internationalism  as  a  new  move- 
ment and  idea,  and  the  school  as  an  institution  in  which 
changes  in  the  social  order  are  reflected  ( but  in  which  also 
changes  in  the  social  order  are  created)  are  closely  related. 
Adjustment  is  a  relatively  easy  matter;  it  is  the  conception 
of  the  school  as  a  creative  factor  that  challenges  our  best 
efforts.  Let  us  think  of  the  school  as  a  workshop  in  which 
there  must  be  created  the  forces  by  which  we  must  make 
a  desired  and  an  otherwise  unrealizable  future  come  to 
pass  and  we  have  a  new^  and  inspiring  view  of  education. 
The  school  perhaps  must  do  even  more  than  educate  the 
forces;  it  must  help  even  to  create  the  vision  itself  by 
which  the  future  is  to  be  directed.  The  school  becomes,  so 
to  speak,  the  zvorking  hypothesis  of  ckniiaatiou.  In  it  the 
ideas  and  the  desires  by  which  nations  live  must  be  made 
to  take  shape. 

The  idea  of  internationalism  implies  certain  changes  in 
the  external  relations  of  nations  which,  whatever  the  form 
internationalism  will  take  on  its  political  side,  are  not 
diflicult  to  perceive.  These  in  turn  imply  internal  changes. 
We  might  readily  outline  or  psychologically  analyze  what 
could  be  called  the  mood  of  internationalism,  in  order  to 
see  its  relations  to  education.  It  contains  a  number  of 
factors,  more  or  less  related  to  one  another.  First,  there 
is  a  recognition  of  a  world  of  growing,  living  historical 

i68 


Internationalism  and  the  School  169 

entities  which  we  call  nations;  and  this  recognition  implies 
new  understanding  and  an  enrichment  of  knowledge.  Sec- 
ond, there  is  a  change  in  the  consciousness  of  nations, 
slow  but  visible,  by  which  they  become  more  willing  to  in- 
vestigate freely  and  fairly  their  own  place  in  history,  under- 
stand their  own  desires,  functions,  virtues,  faults,  the  value 
of  their  culture  and  civilization.  Without  such  an  attitude 
all  talk  of  internationalism  in  any  real  sense  is  idle.  Third, 
there  is  a  new  and  different  prac  ical  interest.  We  begin 
to  conceive  our  world  as  a  world  of  complex  practical  rela- 
tions, and  this  idea  of  a  practical  world  is  likely  to  become 
one  of  the  leading  thoughts  of  the  future.  Fourth,  by  ex- 
tending, so  to  speak,  this  idea  of  a  world  of  practical 
relations,  we  idealize  a  world  in  which  there  is  a  common 
interest  in  great  international  achievements, —  a  world  de- 
voted more  than  it  is  now  to  coordinated  efforts  to  accelerate 
progress,  more  conscious  of  the  needs  of  a  distant  future, 
perhaps,  or  even  of  an  ideal  of  universal  efficiency  as  a 
means  of  realizing  some  one  world  purpose  or  many  good 
purposes.  This  is  not  now,  as  it  once  might  have  been 
called,  merely  an  Utopian  dream.  In  some  slight  degree 
it  is  already  being  accomplished.  Fifth,  social  and  moral 
feelings  are  widened  in  scope,  and  must  be  still  further  ex- 
tended ;  it  is  in  the  form  of  the  democratic  spirit,  that  these 
feelings  must  find  expression.  And  this  democratic  spirit 
is  on  one  side  practical,  but  it  is  also  something  more  than 
the  emergence  of  the  common  mind  ;  it  is  the  aristocratic  idea 
carried  out  universally  that  we  look  forward  to,  an  en- 
thusiasm for  all  true  values,  -a  mood  and  activity  in  which 
all  people  participate.  Sixth,  there  is  a  necessary  attitude 
toward  world  organization  or  world  government,  according 
to  which  we  think  of  world  government  or  world  organiza- 
tion as  a  means  of  accomplishing  results  which  fulfill  funda- 
mental desires  and  purposes  of  the  peoples  of  the  earth; 
as  a  growing  structure,  something  to  be  added  to  and  im- 
proved.    Seventh,  if  so  general  a  tendency  and  demand  may 


170  llic   Psychology   of  Nations 

he  made  clear,  there  is  a  philos()j)hical  mood,  which  must 
he  made  a  part  of  the  ideal  and  the  attitude  of  the  future, 
if  that  future  is  to  realize  even  the  practical  hopes  of  the 
ivorld.  This  philosophical  attitude  is  first  of  all  a  way  of 
living  comprehensively  and  more  universally,  in  the  world 
both  of  facts  and  of  ideas.  It  means  a  less  provincial  and 
a  more  widely  enriched  life  for  all.  It  means  also  an 
ability  to  choose  the  good  not  according  to  preconceptions 
and  narrow  principles,  but  according  to  the  wisdom  con- 
tained in  the  experience  and  the  selective  powers  of  man- 
kind as  a  whole.  This  means  a  life  in  which  men  live,  so 
to  speak,  more  collectively. 

These  factors  of  the  idea  of  internationalism,  whatever 
we  may  think  of  the  possibility  of  their  realization,  make 
in  their  totality  an  educational  problem :  they  are  specifica- 
tions, so  to  speak,  laid  before  us  for  the  making  of  a  new 
educational  product.  If  we  say  that  it  is  useless  to  think 
of  such  things,  we  are  saying  merely  that  it  is  useless  to 
hope  to  be  a  factor  in  conscious  evolution,  or  that  the  world 
as  a  whole  has  no  purpose  and  no  goal.  If  we  believe  educa- 
tion has  any  function  in  the  larger  work  of  the  world,  edu- 
cational philosophy  must  take  these  things  into  account, 
see  how  they  may  be  created  or  sustained,  and  how'  they  can 
be  made  to  work  together  to  help  bring  to  pass  the  kind  of 
future  men  are  talking  so  much  about. 

I.  The  Essential  World  Idea 

Our  present  situation  has  plainly  made  it  necessary  for 
us  to  understand  the  world  in  which  we  live  far  better 
than  we  have  in  the  past,  and  to  be  willing  to  make  more 
dispassionate  judgments  about  it.  For  better  or  for  worse 
we  have  entered  upon  a  new  stage  of  history,  in  which 
heavy  responsibilities  fall  upon  all  peoples,  and  upon  none 
more  than  upon  ourselves.  Enlightenment  beyond  all  our 
present  understanding  is  a  necessity.     We  have  been  pe- 


Internationalism  and  the  School  171 

culiarly  isolated  and  separated  from  the  world's  affairs ; 
now  we  are  peculiarly  involved.  We  have,  however,  one 
great  and  unusual  advantage.  In  our  case  it  is  ignorance 
rather  than  prejudice  that  we  must  overcome  in  ourselves. 
The  world  feels  this  and  recognizes  the  unusual  place  this 
gives  us.  We  have  no  thousand  years  of  continuous  strife 
to  distort  our  historical  perspective.  We  ought  to  be  able 
to  be  just  interpreters  of  the  history  of  the  world.  Our 
universities  ought  to  be  the  greatest  centers  of  historical 
learning,  and  as  a  people  we  should  feel  ourselves  called 
upon  above  all  other  peoples  to  know  the  world. 

As  a  nation  we  pass  out  of  a  local  into  a  broader  political 
field.  We  become  citizens  of  a  world,  but  this  world  is 
no  mere  habitation  of  individuals  who  are  to  be  affiliated 
with  one  another.  It  is  a  world  of  national  urills.  Inter- 
nationalism is  first  of  all  a  recognition  of  the  legitimate  de- 
sires of  nations.  But  such  a  recognition  of  the  legitimate 
desires  of  nations  cannot  be  effected  merely  by  spreading 
abroad  good  will.  A  widespread  education  in  the  meaning 
of  history  must  first  be  made  the  foundation  of  interna- 
tional justice  in  the  minds  of  the  people.  Current  history 
and  future  events  seen  in  the  light  of  all  history,  of  history 
as  the  science  and  story  of  all  human  experience,  become 
our  chief  intellectual  interest  to-day.  The  war  has  taught 
us  how  little  the  people  in  the  world  know  about  the  world 
as  a  whole.  All  history  thus  far  has  been  local  history. 
Everywhere  there  tends  to  be  the  prejudice  in  some  degree 
that  comes  from  the  private  need  of  using  history  for 
political  ends.  Unless  we  can  now  put  history,  real  his- 
tory, at  the  head  of  our  sciences,  the  war  will  have  failed 
of  a  great  result,  whatever  in  particular,  in  a  political  way, 
it  may  have  accomplished. 

With  such  an  understanding  of  what  is  to  be  meant  by 
history  we  say,  if  that  seems  an  adequate  way  of  ex- 
pressing it,  that  the  teaching  of  history  becomes  one  of 
the  fundamental  problems  of  the  educational  work  of  the 


172  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

day.  It  might  be  better  to  say  that  living  in  the  historical 
spirit  is  demanded  as  a  way  of  salvation  of  the  world. 
However,  adding  geography  and  economics  to  history  we 
have  a  content  that  must  somehow  be  taught  in  the  schools. 
History,  as  the  most  concrete  science  of  the  actual  world  in 
which  we  live,  now  seems  to  have  become  a  new  center  for 
the  curriculum.  Hitherto  we  have  tended  to  regard  his- 
tory too  lightly,  as  the  story  of  the  world ;  now  there  must 
be  a  deeper  view  of  it.  We  must  have  an  understanding 
of  the  motives  and  the  desires  of  peoples;  history  must 
not  only  be  broader  and  more  comprehensive  but  more 
penetrating  and  psychological.  It  is  the  purposes  of  na- 
tions, working  themselves  out  in  their  history,  that  we 
must  understand.  There  must  no  longer  be  great  un- 
known places  on  the  earth.  Germany,  Russia,  Japan  must 
not  continue  to  be  mysteries.  National  psychology  must 
be  made  a  part  of  historical  interpretation.  This  new 
history  must  be  the  means  of  showing  us  our  world  in  a 
more  total  view  than  we  have  thus  far  had  of  it,  so  that 
we  may  better  discern  the  continuity,  if  there  be  one,  be- 
hind the  detached  movements  and  multiplicity  of  facts  pre- 
sented by  the  world's  story;  for  perhaps,  in  this  way,  we 
should  better  understand  what  the  future  is  to  produce, 
and  what,  more  important  still,  it  ought  to  be  made  to 
produce. 

The  need  first  of  all  is  for  a  continuation  of  the  interest 
inspired  by  the  war  —  an  interest  showing  itself  in  the 
form  of  an  universal  interest  in  all  history,  and  an  inten- 
sive investigation  of  history.  We  need  now,  indeed,  the 
most  comprehensive  study  of  the  world  that  has  ever  been 
conceived  or  dreamed  of  by  man.  This  is  the  duty  of  the 
historians.  This  new  history  must  show  us  what  nations 
are  at  heart,  what  they  desire,  what  they  can  do.  Such 
an  understanding  of  nations  is.  we  say.  the  real  beginning 
of  internationalism.  It  is  a  necessary  foundation  for  it,  if 
internationalism    is   to   be    anything   more    than   a   merely 


Internationalism  and  the  School  173 

practical,  prudential  or  political  arrangement  among  nations. 
In  the  school-room  eventually,  and  indeed  beginning  now, 
there  is  demanded  a  readjustment  of  interest  by  which  his- 
tory takes  a  new  and  more  central  place.  We  must  en- 
deavor to  give  the  new  generation  a  zvorld-idea.  And  upon 
the  nature  and  clearness  of  this  world-idea  much,  in  the 
future,  will  depend. 

Such  a  demand  upon  the  school  opens  once  more,  of 
course,  all  the  old  problems  of  the  teaching  of  history. 
All  the  dreary  questions  of  the  precise  order  in  which  his- 
tory should  be  taught  —  whether  backwards  or  forwards, 
local  first  or  the  reverse,  may  be  brought  up  if  one  chooses 
to  do  so.  But  after  all,  these  questions  are  not  very  fruit- 
ful. What  we  need  most  is  the  historical  spirit.  We  want 
a  dramatic  presentation  of  the  world's  whole  story,  by  which 
the  true  meaning  of  history  is  conveyed.  The  methods  of 
art  must  be  added  to  the  methods  of  fact.  A  persuasive  use 
of  the  materials  of  history  must  be  made.  This  means  a 
change  finally,  perhaps,  not  only  in  the  methods  of  teach- 
ing history,  but  in  the  whole  mood  and  spirit  of  the  school. 
Methods  are  likely  to  adapt  themselves  to  necessity.  Cer- 
tainly the  slow  methods  of  presenting  facts,  sometimes  if 
not  generally  employed,  the  tedious  lingering  upon  details, 
seems  wholly  out  of  place.  We  need  a  broader  outlook  in 
history.  Even  the  young  child  must  have  a  more  compre- 
hensive world-idea,  some  sense  of  the  whole  of  the  great 
world  in  which  he  lives.  This  is  one  of  the  instances,  it 
may  be,  in  which  we  must  set  about  breaking  up  any  re- 
capitulatory order,  natural  to  the  child,  which  suggests  an 
advance  from  the  local  to  the  more  general  and  wider 
knowledge.  The  universal  interests  of  the  day  so  strongly 
afifect  the  child,  the  social  consciousness  so  dominates  the 
individual  consciousness  that  even  the  natural  law  of  de- 
velopment must  to  some  extent  yield  if  necessary.  This 
social  consciousness,  the  interests  and  purposes  expressed 
in  the  child's  social  environment,  present  the  experience  of 


174  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

the  adult  world  dramatically  and  intensively,  exerting  as 
we  might  say,  a  creative  power  upon  the  mind.  That  in- 
deed is  precisely  what  the  higher  teaching,  whether  in  the 
form  of  art,  or  in  the  form  of  vivid  experience,  conveyed 
though  the  practical  life  does  everywhere  in  education. 

We  do  not  yet  know  what  history,  taught  thus  dramati- 
cally and  intimately,  under  the  stimulus  of  the  greatest 
events  of  all  time  might  do  for  the  mind  of  the  child  or  for 
all  the  future  of  the  world.  We  have  never  had  the  most 
favorable  conditions  for  the  teaching  of  universal  history. 
We  have  been  obliged  to  create  interest.  History  has  been 
taught  externally,  from  the  standpoint  of  a  far-away  ob- 
server. Now  history  may  and  must  be  taught  more  as  it 
is  lived.  The  world  has  become  more  real  to  every  one ; 
this  sense  of  reality  of  a  world  of  historical  entities  must 
be  made  to  persist.  We  must  not  go  back  to  our  unreal 
and  intellectualized  history.  The  spirit  of  the  nations  must 
be  made  to  live  again,  so  to  speak,  in  the  minds  of  the 
coming  generation.  A\'hat  each  nation  stands  for,  its  ethos. 
its  personality,  must  be  made  clear.  Powers  says  that  all 
governments  and  all  nations  are  sincere.  It  is  the  soul  of 
nations,  then,  their  own  realization  of  themselves  that  must 
be  made  the  real  object  of  histor}\  We  must  go  back  of 
the  individual  and  the  event  at  least,  to  the  desires  that 
have  made  history  what  it  is ;  we  must  see  why  events 
have  taken  place,  and  while  sacrificing  nothing  of  our 
own  principles  and  standards,  understand  and  feel  what  the 
principles  and  the  nature  of  these  widely  differing  nations 
really  are.  For  the  actual  teaching  of  history,  it  is  likely 
that  the  story,  carried  to  its  highest  point  of  art.  will  still 
be  the  chief  method.  But  pictorial  art  must  be  heavily 
drawn  upon,  and  all  the  resources  of  symbolic  art.  as  we 
pass  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  stages  in  education,  or. 
we  had  perhaps  better  say,  as  we  try  more  and  more 
to  convey  moods  and  the  spirit  of  nations  and  epochs  and 
to  appeal  to  the  deep  motives  in  the  subconscious  life  of 


Internationalism  and  the  School  175 

the  individual.  Plainly  there  is  much  work  to  do  in  the 
investigation  and  the  teaching  of  history  for  every  grade 
and  department  of  the  educational  system,  from  the  gov- 
ernment and  the  higher  universities  to  the  teacher  of  the 
young  child.  It  is  an  age  of  history,  a  day  in  which  all 
sciences  have  as  one  of  their  tasks  to  aid  in  the  under- 
standing of  history.  In  the  broader  world  and  the  universal 
life  which  the  idea  and  the  reality  of  internationalism  has 
opened  up  to  us,  all  must  live  in  some  way,  if  only  in 
imagination.  History  is  a  part  of  the  necessary  equipment 
for  that  life. 

//.  The  Reeducation  of  National  Desires 

The  second  factor  in  internationalism  is  also,  on  its 
educational  side,  related  to  a  knowledge  of  history.  This 
is  the  attitude  which  peoples  must  take  toward  their  own 
purposes  and  ambitions.  We  must  begin  to  speak  of  the 
education  of  national  consciousness.  This  process  of  the 
education  of  nations  must  be  such  as  will  teach  peoples  to 
surrender  certain  visions  most  of  them  have  in  regard  to 
a  future  which  cannot  now  be  realized.  The  content  of 
the  desires  of  nations  must  now  be  changed.  The  future 
of  many  peoples  will  depend  upon  the  extent  to  which  they 
can  remain  progressive  and  enthusiastic  without  the  stimulus 
of  imperialistic  ambitions. 

Considering  our  own  situation  in  America,  it  seems  plain 
that  we  have  confronting  us  a  serious  educational  prob- 
lem, that  of  imparting  to  the  rising  generation  and  of 
acquiring  for  ourselves,  a  better  understanding  of  the  mean- 
ing and  place  of  our  country  in  the  world,  and  a  more  ear- 
nest interest  in  its  functions  and  its  welfare.  This  re- 
quires something  more  than  a  teaching  of  American  history. 
It  is  time  for  us  to  take  stock  of  all  our  material  and  all  our 
spiritual  possessions.  We  need  perhaps  to  discover  what 
our  ideals  really  are  and  what  the  ideas  and  the  forces  are 


176  The  Psychulugy   of  i\  aitons 

that  have  made  our  history  what  rt  has  been  ;  and  what  in 
the  future  we  are  likely  to  do  and  to  be,  and  ought  to 
do  and  be.  We  must  question  deeply  at  this  time  our  own 
soul;  we  must  look  to  our  institutions,  our  literature  and 
our  art  for  an  understanding  of  ourselves. 

This  more  profound  knowledge  of  ourselves  must  be 
made  the  basis  of  our  especial  educational  philosophy. 
Here  is  the  most  urgent  of  all  our  educational  problems. 
Education  is,  or  should  be,  a  process  by  which  national 
character  is  constantly  being  molded.  In  the  school  the 
nation  must  learn  much  that  cannot  be  read  in  books.  It 
must  learn  to  believe  things  that  cannot  be  proved,  or  per- 
haps even  definitely  formulated  as  truth.  The  soul  of 
the  nation  must  be  subjected,  in  a  word,  to  some  kind  of 
spiritual  leadership.  Constructive  statesmanship  must  be 
felt  as  an  influence  in  the  school.  The  problem  is  really 
nothing  less  than  that  of  educating  and  forming  national 
character.  Now  that  we  stand  less  alone  as  a  nation  our 
character  cannot  safely  be  left  so  much  to  chance  and  to 
the  effects  of  our  favorable  environment  and  our  original 
stock  of  virtues.  We  cannot  continue  to  be  so  naive  and  so 
unconscious  of  our  country  as  w'e  have  been.  What  we  are 
and  what  we  must  do  as  a  people,  we  say,  ought  to  be  better 
understood.  We  should  bring  these  ideals  of  ours  out  of  the 
mists  of  partisan  thinking  and  give  them  more  definite 
shape,  and  at  the  same  time  translate  them  into  the  lan- 
guage of  sincere  living.  National  honor  ought  to  be  made 
a  clearer  idea.  We  ought  at  least  to  be  sure  it  contains  the 
idea  of  honesty.  Such  prejudices  as  our  history  has  en- 
couraged in  us  must  be  recognized,  and  computed  in  our 
personal  equation.  These  prejudices  we  certainly  harbor 
—  in  regard  to  our  own  particular  type  of  government,  our 
culture  and  education,  our  freedom  and  our  democracy 
and  our  security.  Every  nation  appears  to  have  its  own 
idols,  its  concealments  and  its  self-deceptions,  its  belief  in 
its  own  supremacy  and   divine  mission,   and   its   innocent 


Internationalism  and  the  School  177 

faith  in  its  own  mores.  To  overcome  such  narrowness 
and  perversion  without  introducing  worse  faults  is  a  diffi- 
cult problem  of  education.  In  either  direction  there  appear 
to  be  real  dangers.  A  nation  steeped  in  provincial  ways, 
plunged  as  we  are  now  into  the  midst  of  world  politics,  has 
difficulties  lying  before  it  compared  to  which  contributing 
a  decisive  military  power  is  small.  There  are  dangers  in 
standing  aloof  from  other  peoples.  But  if  we  surrender 
too  readily  our  prejudices  and  homespun  ways,  and  too 
rapidly  absorb  influences  from  without,  w'e  shall  be  no 
safer,  for  carried  too  far,  that  would  mean  to  lose  our  mis- 
sion and  our  vision.  There  appears  to  be,  moreover,  no 
safe  and  easy  middle  course  which  w^e  can  follow.  Our 
only  course  seems  to  be  clearly  to  understand  ourselves, 
rise  above  our  limitations  and  difficulties,  turn  our  faults 
into  virtues,  and  make  ourselves  secure  by  our  own  inner 
worth  and  power. 

Plainly  there  are  difficult  problems  ahead  of  the  teachers 
of  American  history.  They  must  not  inculcate  suspicion 
and  fear,  but  they  must  not  present  our  security  in  a  false 
light.  They  must  not  inspire  the  war-like  spirit  and  im- 
perialistic ambitions,  but  they  must  do  nothing  to  lessen 
our  seriousness  of  purpose  and  enthusiasm  for  the  future. 
They  must  not  teach  national  vanity,  but  they  must  not  on 
the  other  hand  encourage  a  spirit  which  is  in  any  way 
over-critical  and  cynical  or  supercilious.  There  must  be 
political  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the  people  but  not  a  sophis- 
ticated state  of  mind.  These  teachers  must  inspire  a  whole- 
some pride,  W'ithout  creating  an  inflamed  sense  of  honor 
such  as  has  caused  so  many  wars.  They  must  make  clear 
the  virtue  and  the  individuality  of  our  own  national  life, 
but  in  doing  this  they  must  not  disparage  the  foreign  and 
give  rise  to  prejudice  and  antagonism.  How  to  establish 
us  still  more  firmly  in  our  own  essential  traits  and  philoso- 
phy of  life  without  making  us  conceited  and  closed  to 
good  influences   from  without ;  how  to  give   us  a  strong 


178  The  Psychulogy   of  Nations 

sense  of  solidarity  without  the  attendant  sense  of  opposition 
to  everything  outside  the  grouj)  is  a  part  of  our  educational 
work  which,  in  a  broad  sense,  falls  to  the  teacher  of  his- 
tory. 

The  central  problem  of  the  education  of  national  con- 
sciousness, in  our  view,  is  to  make  desires  more  conscious 
and  to  subject  them  to  discipline  and  the  influence  of  the 
best  ideals  of  American  life.  MacCurdy  says  that  by 
making  instincts  conscious  we  take  a  great  step  in  advance. 
That  we  should  say  is  true,  if  we  make  them  conscious  in 
the  right  way,  and  do  not  try  to  substitute  rational  prin- 
ciples for  them.  But  we  need  to  go  further;  we  must  not 
only  understand  and  control  the  impulses  of  aggression,  jeal- 
ousy, fear  and  the  like  that  have  played  such  a  sinister  part 
in  history,  but  we  must  know  more  about  those  complex 
and  subtile  things  we  call  moods,  which  are  really  the  main 
forces  in  modern  life.  These  moods  are  accumulations 
and  repositories  of  interests  and  desires,  and  they  must  be 
appreciated  by  all  who  as  educators,  undertake  to  direct 
the  forces  in  our  national  life.  These  desires  must  be  made 
more  definitely  conscious  everywhere,  and  be  subjected  to 
influence  and  education.  It  is  not  simply  institutions,  or- 
ganizations and  factions  that  must  be  watched  and  con- 
trolled, just  because  these  are  the  more  obvious  and  most 
easily  affected  expressions  of  tendencies  and  desires,  but 
all  the  subtile  feelings  or  moods  which  are  the  raw  ma- 
terials, so  to  speak,  of  future  conduct,  ideals,  and  institu- 
tions. 

Here  comes  to  view,  of  course,  our  whole  problem  of 
assimilation  of  heterogeneous  elements.  Favored  by  our 
geographical  position,  and  by  the  fortunate  success  and 
the  great  suggestive  pow'er  of  the  ideal  of  liberty  with  which 
our  history  began,  America  has  had.  as  \\t  all  realize,  thus 
far  an  unusual  career.  We  have  been  able  to  assimilate  for- 
eign elements  with  great  rapidity.  We  may  not  be  so  for- 
tunate in  the  future.     Distances  which  have  severed  our  new 


Internationalism  and  the  School  179 

peoples  from  their  old  ties  have  become  strangely  shortened 
by  the  war.  Our  problems  of  adjustment  have  become 
more  subtile  and  complex.  The  necessity  of  succeeding 
in  unifying  our  population  is  more  urgent.  Therefore  our 
future  development,  as  a  nation,  becomes  to  a  greater  ex- 
tent a  process  of  conscious  direction;  what  we  have  done 
naively  and  by  sheer  force  of  our  powers  of  growth,  we 
must  do  now,  it  is  likely,  more  deliberately  and  efficiently. 

We  have  before  us  in  America  the  highly  important  and 
by  no  means  easy  task  of  harmonizing,  under  new  condi- 
tions, all  sorts  of  forces  and  desires  by  directing  them  in 
ways  and  toward  ends  which  cannot  now  be  wholly  deter- 
mined. There  is  both  a  psychological  and  a  pedagogical 
aspect  of  the  situation.  Psychology  must  perform  for 
American  life  something  very  much  like  a  psycho-analysis; 
we  should  expect  to  see  as  a  result  of  the  war  a  greatly 
increased  interest,  on  the  part  of  the  American  people,  in 
themselves ;  self-understanding  and  self-interpretation,  we 
should  suppose,  would  be  advanced;  all  the  sciences  of 
human  nature  we  should  think  would  be  called  upon  to 
help  us  to  make  a  new  American  history  and  to  formulate 
the  purposes  of  our  national  life. 

On  the  pedagogical  side  we  might  expect  reasonably  to 
see  a  deepened  sincerity  on  the  part  of  all  who  in  any  way 
stand  in  the  position  of  teachers.  We  are  dependent  upon 
leaders  in  a  democratic  country,  and  all  leaders  in  what- 
ever place  in  society  would  now,  one  might  hope,  feel  a 
heightened  sense  of  duty,  both  to  understand  and  to  in- 
fluence American  life,  to  represent  in  their  own  persons  and 
teachings  the  highest  ideals,  and  indeed  to  become  truly 
creative  forces  in  society.  Boutroux  says  that  Germany 
is  a  product  of  an  external  phenomenon  —  education. 
America,  we  should  say,  must  become  more  and  more  a 
product  of  an  internal  phenomenon  —  education.  That  is, 
the  forces  that  will  continue  to  shape  our  country  must 
be  in  the  form  of  leadership  growing  out  of  the  best  im- 


i8o  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

pulses  and  the  true  meaning  of  our  civilization.  No  forces 
will  make  of  us  something  we  are  not  by  nature;  our 
strength  must  continue  to  come  from  within,  hut  it  is  the 
aristocratic  spirit,  the  aristocracy  of  genius  in  the  fields 
of  intellect,  morality  and  art  that  must  of  course  have  the 
fullest  opportunity  to  influence  all  our  institutions,  even  the 
school  room. 

So  to  organize  our  educational  system  that  it  shall  be 
thrown  wide  open  to  all  new  and  good  influences ;  so  to 
conduct  the  school  that  it  shall  be  immediately  responsive 
to  these  influences,  Is  one  of  the  most  urgent  needs  of  the 
internal  life  of  the  nation.  This,  rather  than  the  introduc- 
tion of  any  new  content  into  the  school  is  now  our  chief 
need.  Some  of  these  influences  must  be  personal,  belong- 
ing to  the  present.  Some  belong  to  the  past.  We  must 
make  American  history,  poetry,  oratory,  science,  art  and 
philosophy  serve  more  completely  than  they  do  now  the 
ideals  and  the  right  ambitions  of  the  nation.  This  is  the 
way  we  must  both  bring  the  past  to  fuller  realization  and 
also  create  new  life  which  shall  make  amends  for  the  de- 
ficiencies of  the  past. 

///.  Practical  Interests 

The  foundation  of  internationalism,  in  our  znew,  is  the 
recognition  of  the  legitimate  desires  and  needs  of  peoples. 
The  desires  of  peoples  when  educated  should  become  in- 
terests in  the  performance  of  all  normal  functions  of  na- 
tional life.  The  functions  are  practical ;  they  take  the 
form  of  many  commonplace  and  daily  activities.  The 
recognition  of  the  legitimacy  of  the  desires  of  nations  im- 
plies, or  at  least  naturally  leads  to,  cooperation  in  their  ac- 
complishment. It  is  very  probable,  therefore,  and  it  ap- 
pears to  be  required  in  any  internationalism  that  is  more 
than  a  name,  that  there  shall  be  in  the  future  wide  co- 
operation in  the  performance  of  various  activities  by  in- 


Internationalism  and  the  School  i8i 

ternational  organizations  and  agreements.  If  this  is  to  be 
the  order  of  the  future,  new  educational  efforts  will  be 
demanded,  and  there  must  be  different  methods  and  different 
points  of  view  in  several  phases  of  our  educational  system, 
for  now  all  education  is  devised  with  reference  to  an 
autonomous  state  of  the  nation. 

If  practical  cooperation  becomes  a  part  of  our  plan  of 
international  organization  in  the  future,  we  shall  see  many 
problems  in  applied  economics  and  industry  taken  up  for 
far  more  serious  consideration  than  has  been  possible 
hitherto.  Some  of  these  problems,  attacked  even  on  a  na- 
tional scale,  have  seemed  hopeless,  but  when  viewed  in  their 
international  aspects  and  with  a  prospect  of  international 
interest  and  effort  they  seem  very  different.  There  ar^ 
many  such  problems  toward  the  solution  of  which  educa- 
tion must  contribute  a  large  part.  We  might  mention  the 
food  problem  of  the  world  as  typical,  and  point  to  the 
present  world-wide  interest  and  cooperation  as  an  indica- 
tion of  what  may  come  in  the  future  in  regard  to  all  the 
problems  of  production  and  distribution  of  necessities,  if 
we  really  mean  anything  by  our  internationalism.  Ap- 
parently we  hold  within  our  hands  the  means  of  alleviating 
most,  if  not  all,  the  destitution  of  the  world.  Organiza- 
tion and  education  in  efficiency  are  the  necessary  and  the 
sufficient  weapons. 

So  we  may  conclude  that  an  efficient  method  of  educat- 
ing peoples  in  the  work  of  food  production,  and  in  the 
habit  of  conserving  necessities  would  make  a  wide  change 
in  the  economic  condition  of  the  world.  Organization 
which  shall  include  in  some  way  the  service  of  all  chil- 
dren, will  add  still  more  to  efficiency,  and  will  contribute 
an  educational  factor  of  great  importance.  In  such  ways 
we  may  to  an  unlimited  extent  increase  the  available  en- 
ergies of  the  world,  and  make  possible,  if  we  will,  the 
further  increase  and  expansion  of  the  human  race.  Such 
a  possibility  and  such  an  ideal  give  a  totally  new  meaning 


1 82  The  Psycliolugy   of  Nations 

to  much  of  the  fundamental  work  of  education.  All  our 
departments  and  accessories  of  the  educational  system  that 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  elemental  occupations  acquire 
a  new  interest  and  importance  from  this  point  of  view. 

The  whole  field  of  industry  offers  now,  indeed,  a  broader 
educational  opportunity.  Children's  hands  are  ready  to 
do  many  things  that  will  increase  the  happiness  and  the 
powers  of  the  children  themselves  and  at  the  same  time 
add  to  the  w'orld's  prosperity.  Children  must,  of  course, 
not  be  exploited  in  tasks  that  belong  to  the  adult,  but  there 
is  a  proper  place  for  practical  organization  of  children 
in  the  world's  work,  and  a  potential  helpfulness  in  children 
in  the  larger  affairs  of  society  that  has  not  yet  been  drawn 
upon,  although  surely  we  have  seen,  during  the  years  of  the 
war,  what  children  might  accomplish.  It  is  above  all  in  its 
relations  to  universal  social  feeling  that  such  practical  edu- 
cation and  use  of  childhood  are  most  significant.  Out  of 
the  practical  activities,  moral  results  could  hardly  fail  to 
come.  It  is  not  too  much  to  expect  that  the  children  of 
the  world  may  sometime  be  so  organized  that  the  power 
of  childish  enthusiasm,  raised  to  we  know  not  what  de- 
gree by  the  suggestive  force  of  such  world-wide  relations 
as  are  now  possible,  may  quickly  be  turned  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  great  tasks. —  doing  its  part  in  the  service,  the 
conservation,  the  self  denial,  that  any  serious  interest  in 
internationalism  will  in  the  future  with  but  little  doubt 
make  necessary. 

Education  that  shall  take  into  account  the  principles  of 
efficiency  and  economy  as  applied  to  universal  problems 
will  be  a  great  advance  upon  any  teaching  hitherto  done 
in  the  interest  of  internationalism.  It  is  through  practical 
activity  and  interest,  suggesting  and  requiring  restraint  and 
cooperation,  arousing  imagination  and  the  dramatic  im- 
pulses, that  fruitful  and  permanent  social  affiliations  of  na- 
tions with  one  another  will  be  likely  to  be  made.  We  may 
safely  assume,  in  fact,  that  firm  affiliations  can  be  made  only 


Internationalism  and  the  School  183 

in  some  such  way.  Internationalism,  from  this  point  of 
view,  is  at  bottom  not  a  poHtical  problem,  but  an  educa- 
tional problem.  The  world  will  be  united  only  through  the 
mediation  of  its  daily  practical  needs.  The  motives  for 
such  union  are  themselves  commonplace.  Moral  inten- 
tions are  represented  also,  and  world  crises  make  the  con- 
ditions ripe  for  such  coordination  of  interests,  but  they  do 
not  alone  produce  the  definite  organization  without  which 
the  world  will  continue  to  be,  as  Dickinson  calls  Europe, 
a  society  in  the  state  of  anarchy. 


CHAPTER  III 

INTERNATIONALISM    AND    THE    SCHOOL    (cOfttiftued) 

IV.  The  Higher  Industry 

It  is  in  the  higher  forms  of  practical  cooperative  activity 
and  in  the  intellectual  processes,  the  interests  and  social 
feelings  accompanying  them  that  we  should  expect  to  see 
elaborated  and  made  more  ideal  the  internationalism  that 
has  first  been  put  to  work  in  the  service  of  the  world  at  a 
lower  level.  There  is  work  to  do  that  appeals  to  profound 
motives  and  feelings.  The  great  engineering  projects  that 
await  us,  the  work  of  exploring,  colonizing  and  the  like  in 
which  universal  interest  and  cooperation  are  necessary  fas- 
cinate the  mind.  These  things  satisfy  the  dramatic  instinct, 
and  they  may  prove  to  be  in  the  future  an  actual  substitute 
for  war,  as  James  hoped.  The  educational  opportunities 
of  this  theme,  at  least,  are  great.  Any  nation  that  expects 
to  play  a  great  part  in  the  world's  politics  must  expect  to 
do  much  in  the  world's  service.  These  nations  must  be 
prepared  in  every  possible  way  to  contribute  greatly  to  the 
material  improvement  of  the  earth.  To  this  end  technical 
education,  all  along  the  line,  must  be  kept  at  a  high  point 
of  efficiency.  Inventive  thought  in  all  mechanical  fields 
will  certainly  be  a  large  factor  in  the  culture  values  of 
peoples  in  the  future.  When  we  see  what  four  years  of 
war  have  accomplished  in  the  way  of  giving  us  control 
over  material  forces,  we  may  realize  what,  with  the  contin- 
uation of  a  powerful  incentive,  might  be  done  in  the  arts 
of  peace.  These  great  practical  needs  have  also,  as  we 
sav,  their  power  of  appeal  to  all  the  profound  motives  of 

184 


Internationalism  and  the  School  185 

the  social  life.  We  must  make  use  of  this  appeal.  All 
the  power  of  the  strong  story  of  the  day's  work  must  be 
turned  upon  this  educational  problem.  All  industry,  in- 
deed, must  be  made  more  dramatic,  as  it  can  be  under  the 
inspiration  of  the  larger  industrial  life  which  the  idea  of  in- 
ternationalism opens  up  before  us.  Industry  must  be  made 
more  satisfying  to  the  fundamental  motives  of  the  individ- 
ual, while  at  the  same  time  it  is  made  more  efficient,  and 
more  social.  The  new  generation  must  be  filled  with  the 
romance  of  the  world's  work.  Only  by  presenting  to  young 
and  plastic  minds  the  ideal  features  of  work  shall  we  be 
able  to  harmonize  the  individual  and  the  social  will.  Only 
so,  perhaps,  in  an  industrial  age  shall  we  be  able  to  escape 
from  being  destroyed  by  industrialism.  Anything  that  will 
introduce  art  and  imagination  into  work,  anything  that 
will  even  brighten  a  little  the  dull  moods  of  toil  will  help 
both  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  wider  world  relations  we 
talk  about,  and  to  prevent  the  most  destructive  elements 
and  moods  of  industrialism  gaining  the  upper  hand. 

V.  The  Democratic  Spirit 

We  must  eventually  think  of  internationalism  on  its 
educational  side  as  most  fundamentally  a  question  of  de- 
veloping in  the  world  the  international  spirit.  We  might 
quite  naturally  think  of  this  as  the  education  of  social  feel- 
ing or  of  the  social  instinct.  This  is,  however,  not  the  most 
productive  attitude  toward  the  situation,  in  our  view,  sim- 
ply because  when  we  think  of  the  education  of  the  feelings 
we  are  likely  to  be  satisfied  with  the  principles  of  an  old 
static  philosophy  of  life  and  of  the  school.  Moral  and 
social  feelings,  we  believe,  grow  best  in  a  practical  medium. 
We  cannot  expand  social  feeling  at  will,  or  produce  a 
democratic  spirit  -by  some  simple  process  of  education. 
When  we  try  to  extend  social  feeling  too  far  we  make  the 
moral  life  insincere.     To  try  to  expand  social  feeling  and 


I  86  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

moral  interest  so  as  to  make  it  include  the  foreign,  to  try 
to  love  our  enemies  in  advance  of  all  aesthetic  and  practical 
relations  with  the  foreign  seems  futile.  Distance  must  first 
be  eliminated  by  imagination.  Social  and  moral  codes 
must  be  founded  upon  intimate  relations.  External  and 
distant  relations  among  peoples  make  for  diplomatic  forms 
and  a  hypocritical  morality.  These  are  substitutes  for  so- 
cial feeling.  These  purely  social  relations  of  nations  (like 
those  of  individuals)  always  hide  enmity  and  jealousy.  We 
cannot  expect,  therefore,  to  create  a  moral  spirit  in  the 
relations  of  peoples  to  one  another  by  teaching  alone.  We 
cannot  hope  to  change  individualism  to  altruism  merely  by 
exciting  feeling.  Our  main  efTort  must  be  directed  toward 
establishing  ethical  relations,  rather  than  to  stimulating 
moral  sentiments. 

It  seems  useless  to  preach  universal  brotherhood  either 
to  the  child  who  lacks  entirely  the  content  of  experience 
to  make  such  sentiments  real,  or  to  the  working  masses 
who  now  lack  enthusiasm  in  all  the  social  relations.  At 
least  to  depend  upon  such  teaching  to  create  international 
spirit  is  futile.  Love  for  mankind  is  too  ideal  and  too 
remote,  as  yet,  to  arouse  deep  and  sincere  impulses  and 
feelings.  All  teaching,  therefore,  whether  in  the  school 
or  elsewhere  that  is  directed  exclusively  or  especially  to 
the  moral  aspects  of  peace,  altruistic  behavior  and  in- 
ternationalism, seems  to-day,  to  say  the  least,  peculiarly 
inadequate.  Our  spirit  in  education  must  be  broadly 
humanistic,  and  must  indeed  lay  deep  foundations  for  all 
moral  and  social  relations,  but  in  so  far  as  it  ends  in  being 
cultural  and  hortatory  it  can  have  no  deep  and  lasting 
effect. 

The  teaching  of  international  morality  and  universal  in- 
terests, and  the  development  of  a  zcorld-coisciousncss  de- 
pend fundamentally,  we  may  suppose,  upon  experiences 
which  are  perhaps  not  specifically  moral  in  form  at  all. 
It  is  rather  even  by  the  aesthetic  experience  than  the  moral 


Internationalism  and  the  School  187 

that  the  social  consciousness  will  best  be  expanded  and  made 
to  encircle  the  world.  If  we  can  make  the  world  seem 
vividly  real  to  the  child  we  shall  have  the  intellectual 
content  for  the  making  of  moral  feelings.  The  unmoral 
nature  of  international  relations  and  of  the  feelings  of 
peoples  for  one  another  are  due  in  great  part  precisely  to 
the  lack  of  power  of  imagination  and  of  that  concrete 
knowledge  and  experience  which  would  make  the  foreign 
seem  real.  That  which  is  remote  from  us  and  different  in 
appearance  seems  shadowy  and  ghost-like.  The  internal 
meaning  of  that  which  is  thus  far  away  in  space  cannot 
be  perceived.  Everything  that  is  foreign  tends  to  belong 
in  our  categories  merely  to  the  world  of  objects.  Moral 
feeling  towards  objects  is  manifestly  impossible.  Interna- 
tional law  fails  to  have  moral  force  because  nations  are 
in  general  aware  of  one  another  only  in  these  external 
ways.  The  world  of  foreign  objects  must  be  changed  to 
a  world  of  persons  having  history  and  internal  meaning. 
When  we  can  interpret  and  understand  international  law 
in  terms  of  relations  within  human  experience  and  as 
affecting  individuals,  it  will  begin  perhaps  to  seem  real  and 
hence  morally  obligatory. 

There  is  another  aspect  of  the  work  of  creating  and 
directing  the  wider  social  consciousness  and  giving  it  ethical 
purpose  and  form,  which  is  still  more  fundamental,  and 
at  the  same  time,  to  casual  thought,  perhaps  still  more 
remote  from  definite  moral  improvement  in  the  world  and 
from  all  the  immediately  practical  problems  of  interna- 
tionalism. It  is  the  mood  of  our  social  life  which  we  call 
the  democratic  spirit,  and  which,  made  universal,  is  the 
substratum  of  internationalism  that  most  of  all  needs  to 
be  controlled  and  educated.  At  the  same  time  this  demo- 
cratic spirit  is  least  of  all  susceptible  to  definite  and  rou- 
tine discipline,  of  all  the  factors  of  internationalism.  This 
democratic  spirit  contains  possibilities  of  the  greatest  good 
and  of  the  greatest  evil.     Out  of   it  may   grow   interna- 


1 88  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

tional  order,  or  international  anarchy  and  internal  dis- 
ruption. How  to  keep  this  democratic  spirit  progressive 
and  constructive  in  its  temper,  broad  in  sym])athy  and 
full  of  enthusiasm,  how  to  free  it  from  infection  by  all 
the  poisons  that  are  prone  to  attack  the  popular  conscious- 
ness is  one  of  our  great  problems  of  education. 

This  democratic  spirit  is  the  real  power  behind  inter- 
nationalism. It  is  as  the  mood  of  the  city,  the  whole  spirit 
of  the  modern  urban  life,  that  it  is  most  significant.  The 
mood  of  the  city  contains  on  one  side  the  possibility  of 
an  internationalism  which  is  nothing  more  than  a  sur- 
render of  all  patriotism,  and  is  at  heart  only  a  mass  in- 
terest in  rights  and  needs.  On  the  other  hand  all  the 
interests  and  impulses  that  make  internationalism  necessary 
and  possible  seem  to  have  their  origin  in  the  city.  The 
city  represents,  with  all  its  evil,  the  higher  life  and  the  line 
of  progress.  Progress  passes  through  the  city.  The  city 
is  the  symbol  of  creativeness  and  achievement.  Industrial- 
ism, the  essential  spirit  of  the  city,  is  the  condition,  normal 
and  necessary  we  must  conclude,  out  of  which  the  necessity 
of  international  order  arises.  It  is  a  phase  of  the  process 
by  which  nations  become  dependent  upon  one  another  by 
being  specialized  and  becoming  densely  populated.  It  is 
also  a  factor  in  the  cause  of  wars  w'ithout  and  revolutions 
within. 

The  mood  of  the  city  is  thus  in  a  sense  the  essence  of 
life,  but  it  is  also  the  source  of  disease  and  death  in  the 
national  life.  It  is  the  price  that  is  paid  for  civilization 
that  the  city  tends  to  become  the  hardened  artery  of  na- 
tional life.  The  control  of  the  city  moods  by  educational 
forces  we  may  believe  is  one  of  the  most  fundamental  of  all 
the  problems  of  conscious  evolution.  It  is  the  control  at 
the  fountain-head  of  the  forces  out  of  which  international- 
ism is  to  be  made  that  we  undertake  when  we  try  to  educate 
the  life  of  the  city,  with  reference  to  its  good  and  its  evil. 
The  too  rapid  urbanizing  of  the  life  of  nations,  the  produc- 


Internationalism  and  the  School  189 

tion,  in  the  cities,  of  powers  too  great  and  too  rapidly- 
growing  to  be  controlled  by  the  civilizing  forces  in  a  coun- 
try is  the  great  danger  in  modern  life.  So  great  indeed 
are  the  dangers  in  the  accelerated  growth  of  industrialism 
in  all  the  great  countries  and  the  increased  specialization 
in  the  industrial  life,  that  something  radical  must  be  done, 
in  our  view,  to  counterbalance  this  movement,  and  espe- 
cially to  control  and  to  raise  to  higher  levels  the  psychic 
factors  of  city  life. 

Our  educational  work  is  serious.  We  are  trying  to  save 
democracy  from  itself  —  from  being  destroyed  by  forces 
which  accumulate  in  the  cities.  We  must  keep  life  from 
becoming  sophisticated  before  its  time.  We  must  pre- 
vent enthusiasm  from  degenerating  into  mob  spirit,  and 
from  becoming  attached  to  wholly  material  interests. 
There  must  he  found,  in  some  zvay,  means  of  causing 
counter-currents  to  set  in  against  the  tide  that  flozvs  so 
strongly  from  country  to  city.  Germany's  fate  should 
teach  us  the  dangers  of  this  city  life,  and  show  us  how 
the  forces  that  gather  in  the  great  cities  can  be  turned  in 
the  direction  either  of  fanatical  nationalism  or  toward  the 
lowest  of  all  forms  of  internationalism,  in  which  all  form 
of  government  is  thrown  down.  It  must  teach  us  also 
how  to  catch  the  note  of  new  "  dominants  "  that  are  con- 
cealed in  the  roar  of  city  life,  and  to  make  these  prevail. 

The  control  of  the  formation  of  the  city  moods,  and  the 
direction  and  utilization  of  the  great  energies  contained 
in  them,  now  require,  if  ever  anything  were  demanded  of 
conscious  creative  effort,  more  pozver  on  the  part  of  all  our 
educational  factors.  The  school  appears  now  to  be  at  the 
parting  of  the  ways,  we  say,  when  it  must  either  settle  down 
to  its  routine  and  limited  occupation  of  preparing  children 
for  life,  or  become  a  far  greater  power  in  the  world  than 
it  has  as  yet  been.  We  must  decide  whether  the  school  is 
to  control,  or  to  be  controlled  by,  the  political  and  indus- 
trial forces  of  the  day.     We  must  see  whether  the  school 


190  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

is  going  to  reflect  the  culture  and  the  moods  of  the  environ- 
ment, or  whether  the  school  shall  exert  a  creative  influence 
upon  its  surroundings. 

It  is  plain  that  nothing  less  than  a  radical  change  in 
the  school  can  now  greatly  alter  its  position,  and  release 
it  from  its  bondage  to  politics  and  from  the  overwhelming 
influences  of  its  environment,  and  prevent  the  leveling 
downward  and  the  stereotyping  process  that  is  taking  place 
in  the  school,  both  as  regards  its  intellectual  and  moral 
product  and  the  training  and  selection  of  teachers.  Nothing 
less  than  a  movement  which  shall  break  up  some  of  the 
deepest  and  most  firmly  rooted  habits  and  conventions  of 
the  school  and  throw  the  school  back,  so  to  speak,  upon 
more  generic  and  primitive  motives  than  those  that  now 
control  it  will  be  sufficient.  The  school  needs  more  than 
anything  else  a  change  of  scene  —  a  change  of  venue,  if  a 
legal  term  be  allowed.  The  school  everywhere,  but  espe- 
cially the  school  of  the  city,  is  surrounded  by  influences 
that  prejudice  it  to  fixed  habits  of  thought  and  keep  it  true 
to  a  type  which  has  long  since  ceased  to  be  necessary.  The 
school  is  causing  an  in-breeding  of  the  city  spirit  in  all  the 
great  industrial  countries. 

No  single  change  in  any  institution,  in  our  view,  could 
strike  closer  to  the  roots  of  our  whole  educational  prob- 
lem of  the  future  than  the  bodily  transfer  of  the  city  school 
far  out  into  the  open  country.  Such  a  move  seems  wholly 
practicable,  economic  from  every  point  of  view,  even  the 
financial,  and  it  would  place  the  school  in  a  position  in 
which  profound  changes  in  its  whole  plan  and  organiza- 
tion could  hardly  fail  to  follow  almost  automatically.  With 
our  present  facilities  for  transportation,  the  daily  exodus 
of  children  from  the  surroundings  in  which  are  being  pro- 
duced the  elements  of  our  civilization  that  are  hardest  to 
control  would  be  entirely  possible.  The  effects  upon  the 
whole  of  education,  and  upon  all  the  future  life  of  coun- 
tries like  our  own  could  hardly  fail  to  be  profound.     The 


Internationalism  and  the  School  191 

fundamental  moods  of  childhood  would  be  changed,  and 
everything  contained  in  child  life  would  be  more  amenable 
to  control.  Schools  would  become  more  variable  and  more 
experimental,  and  new  selective  influences  would  be  exerted 
upon  teachers  presumably  in  the  direction  of  raising  the 
social  and  intellectual  average  of  the  profession.  A  much 
larger  field  would  be  opened  up  for  all  those  methods  of 
work  in  education  that  may  be  designated  as  aesthetic  — 
that  is,  that  contain  qualities  of  freedom,  activity  and  crea- 
tiveness. 

VI.  Idea  of  World  Organization 

Some  form  of  organization  of  nations  having  definite 
representation,  constitution,  and  laws,  and  with  a  certain 
degree  of  centralization  and  embodiment  in  visible  institu- 
tions and  locations  will  exist,  we  may  suppose,  for  all  future 
time  in  the  world.  The  existence,  even  in  idea,  of  such 
organization  presents  to  us  inevitable  educational  prob- 
lems. Instruction  in  a  general  way  and  universally  in 
world  politics,  familiarizing  all  with  the  meaning  of  these 
laws  and  political  bodies,  is  but  a  part,  although  a  necessary 
part,  of  the  work.  Our  democratic  principle  demands  that 
more  and  more  interest  and  participation  in  all  forms  of 
government  be  acquired  by  the  people,  that  peoples  and  not 
merely  governments  shall  be  the  units  which  are  brought 
together,  that  there  be  more  organizations  of  the  people 
performing  group  functions.  If  the  loyalty  of  nations  to 
one  another  is  to  be  secured,  as  seems  necessary,  by  estab- 
lishing practical  relations  among  them,  the  education  of  the 
coming  generations  in  these  relations  and  organizations  and 
in  all  practical  affairs  seems  unavoidable.  The  people  must 
have  a  proper  appreciation  of  common  interests  as  implying 
common  work,  and  not  be  encouraged  to  believe  that  rights 
of  representation  are  their  chief  concern.  All  must  know 
the  power  of  organization.  All  must  see  that  the  interna- 
tional  structures   of   our   own   day,   however  complete   in 


192  The  Psychology  of  i\  at  ions 

form,  are  but  a  beginning  and  basis  of  function,  and  that 
there  must  be  put  behind  these  forms  all  the  energies  of  the 
people,  young  and  old,  made  effective  through  organiza- 
tion for  practical  efforts. 

It  is  through  participation  in  activities  that  are  inter- 
national in  scope  that,  in  our  opinion,  the  best  education 
in  the  idea  of  internationalism  will  be  obtained.  This  is 
the  way  to  the  good  will  without  which  political  ideas  will 
be  likely  to  remain  nationalistic  in  fact  whatever  political 
coordinations  may  exist  among  nations.  It  is  as  a  prac- 
tical idea  that  internationalism  needs  now  to  be  impressed 
upon  the  minds  of  all.  An  international  organization  must 
be  looked  upon  as  something  useful,  which  will  remain 
only  if  it  performs  functions  in  which  all  are  interested  and 
in  which  all  can  in  some  way  take  part.  It  is  a  sense  of 
living  in  the  world  rather  than  of  belonging  exclusively  to 
one  locality  that  must  be  taught.  It  is  the  idea  of  a  world 
of  nations  in  organic  unity  rather  than  a  world  of  nations 
attached  to  one  another  by  political  bonds  that  we  need 
to  convey. 

It  is  active  participation  in  the  business  of  a  world  that 
must  be  regarded  as  the  necessary  basis  for  education 
in  the  idea  of  internationalism.  World  government  must 
be  conceived  in  terms  of  w^orld  functions.  But  we  must 
also  provide  for  the  most  dramatic  possible  representation 
of  everything  contained  in  the  idea  of  internationalism 
and  represented  in  its  laws  and  forms.  The  most  vivid 
possible  presentation  must  be  made  of  everything  that  is 
done  internationally,  if  we  wish  to  keep  alive  the  spirit 
which  now  prevails  in  the  world.  We  must  lose  no  op- 
portunity to  make  current  history  impressive ;  we  must  bring 
out  all  its  dramatic  features  in  order  to  fixate  once  for  all 
the  idea  of  the  organic  unity  of  the  race,  and  its  necessary 
coordination  in  tangible  forms.  International  law  must  be 
made  intelligible  to  very  young  minds,  and  now  that  we  are 
to  have  an  international  seat  of  congresses  and  courts  the  ut- 


Internationalism  and  the  School  193 

most  must  be  made  of  its  existence  to  give  reality  to  the  idea 
of  internationalism. 

Those  who  plan  for  the  future  of  the  international  idea 
will  do  well  to  take  into  account  these  pedagogical  aspects 
of  it.  It  is  quite  as  important  to  make  the  international 
idea  pedagogically  persuasive  as  to  make  it  politically  sound. 
Such  an  idea  must  have  a  place  and  an  embodiment  if  it  is 
to  seize  hold  upon  the  popular  mind.  An  international 
city  seems  indispensable,  and  the  further  the  thought  of  it 
can  be  removed  from  that  of  existing  countries  the  more 
readily  will  it  aid  the  young  mind  in  making  the  abstractions 
necessary  to  conceive  the  true  interests  of  all  nations  or 
all  humanity  as  distinct  from  the  interests  of  one  nation. 
In  this  we  are  making  beginnings  to  be  realized  perhaps  in 
a  far  distant  future.  We  want  no  unnatural  and  senti- 
mental internationalism,  but  there  is  every  reason  now  for 
wishing  to  plant  the  seed  of  a  higher  and  more  organic  life 
than  at  the  present  time  exists  in  the  world. 

The  question  of  the  possibility  of  an  universal  language 
arises  again.  The  invention  of  a  new  language,  if  we  may 
judge  at  all  by  the  past,  is  not  practicable.  But  the  exten- 
sion universally  of  some  living  language  seems  possible. 
This  seems  to  be  demanded  in  the  interest  of  the  interna- 
tional idea.  It  is  desirable  and  quite  possible  to  make  all 
civilized  peoples  bilingual,  for  of  course  we  should  not 
expect  anywhere  to  see  a  foreign  language  supplant  the 
native  tongue.  It  is  not  alone  to  facilitate  intercourse 
and  give  a  sense  of  solidarity  that  the  possession  of  an  uni- 
versal language  is  to  be  desired.  We  think  quite  as  much 
of  the  impetus  thus  given  to  the  production  of  an  universal 
literature,  in  which  there  will  be  expressed  not  only  ideas 
about  the  world,  but  moods  which  will  not  be  found  ex- 
pressed in  national  literatures  at  all.  This  literature  might 
be  the  beginning  of  a  solidarity  in  the  world  which  is  not 
now  definitely  conceivable.  Such  an  extension  of  language, 
however,  we  should  hardly  expect  to  take  place  except  in 


194  ^'/^<'  Psychology  of  Nations 

the  course  of  development  of  practical  relations  which  first 
stimulate  the  desire  for  such  common  language. 

VI I.  The  Philosophical  Attitude 

There  is  an  element  in  the  idea  and  mood  of  interna- 
tionalism which  we  can  call  nothin<j^  else  but  philosophic. 
The  ideality  and  universality  of  internationalism  itself  are 
expressions  of  the  philosophic  spirit.  Internationalism,  we 
might  say,  is  a  philosophic  idea,  although  this  might  mean 
to  some  that  we  place  it  among  the  unrealizable  and 
Utopian  plans.  But  this  is  not  the  case.  The  philosophic 
spirit  is,  in  our  view,  the  most  practical  of  moods,  since 
it  is  the  creative,  liberal,  and  progressive  attitude  and  the 
source  of  the  most  profoundly  right  judgments  even  in 
practical  affairs.  The  philosophic  spirit  is  a  background, 
we  may  say,  for  all  the  more  specific  moods,  thoughts  and 
activities  that  enter  into  the  idea  of  internationalism. 

And  yet,  real  and  important  as  the  philosophic  spirit  is, 
we  cannot  readily  discuss  it  as  a  definite  aspect  of  educa- 
tion. The  reason  is  that  it  involves  the  educational  founda- 
tions themselves.  The  spirit,  the  method  and  the  content 
of  the  school  are  all  involved  in  it.  We  can.  however, 
find  some  concrete  manifestations  of  this  philosophic  at- 
titude. In  the  first  place  we  might  say  that  it  is  a  religious 
mood  in  education.  It  is  demanded  of  any  school  that 
hopes  to  play  a  large  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  that, 
in  a  broad  sense,  its  whole  spirit  be  religious.  The  school 
must  be  deeply  touched  by  the  sense  of  a  spiritual  world. 
The  history  of  the  world  must  be  felt  to  be  real  —  that  is, 
as  an  unfoldment  of  purpose  in  the  world.  The  values 
and  the  meaning  of  everything  are  to  be  appreciated  and 
understood,  according  to  this  view,  through  a  process  of 
enrichment  of  the  mind  under  the  influence  of  the  highest 
social  ideals  expressed  in  the  most  persuasive  forms.  Edu- 
cation thus  centers  in  the  work  of  developing  the  power  to 


Internationalism  and  the  School  195 

appreciate  values  in  all  experience.  Anything,  too,  that 
sustains  optimistic  moods  helps  to  create  the  philosophical 
spirit,  and  one  function  of  this  philosophic  spirit  is  to 
forestall  the  cynical  moods  and  the  narrow  and  prejudiced 
ways  of  thinking  which  are  among  the  most  dangerous 
tendencies  of  the  times.  The  tendency  to  form  judgments 
upon  insufficient  evidence  and  to  act  according  to  narrow 
and  one-sided  principles  is  incompatible  with  the  philosophic 
attitude. 

It  is  of  course  by  no  means  the  actual  teaching  of  philoso- 
phy to  every  one,  or  the  spreading  broadcast  of  any  par- 
ticular philosophical  principle  that  one  would  advocate 
as  a  preventive  culture  or  to  cure  existing  evils.  It  is  rather 
a  mode  of  living  and  of  thinking  throughout  society  and 
in  all  the  educational  process  that  is  wanted.  What  we 
need  is  a  better  quality  of  mental  product,  more  capacity 
to  penetrate  into  the  heart  and  substance  of  experience, 
greater  responsiveness  to  good  influences,  greater  ability  to 
judge  values,  and  a  more  plastic  and  more  freely  flowing 
mental  life.  These  are  of  course  large  demands  and  imply 
faith  and  an  interest  in  a  remote  future.  But  a  school  which 
is  religious  through  and  through  in  its  attitude  tozvard  life 
and  is  deeply  touched  by  the  influence  of  art  in  all  its  ways  of 
dealing  with  the  child  zvill  go  a  long  way  toward  fulfilling 
the  requirements  of  an  education  in  the  spirit  of  philosophy. 

Such  conclusions  as  these  might  at  least  serve,  we  should 
suppose,  as  a  working  hypothesis,  upon  the  basis  of  which 
we  may  consider  in  detail  a  variety  of  questions  of  the  day. 
New  problems  have  arisen  before  the  eyes  of  the  teacher, 
and  indeed  obtrude  themselves  upon  all  who  must  take 
part  in  the  practical  life  of  others.  Some  of  these  problems 
are  due  to  changed  external  relations  of  countries  to  one 
another.  Some  are  problems  of  internal  adjustment  and  re- 
construction. At  least  they  may  so  be  classified  for  pur- 
poses of  discussion.  In  reality  all  changes  are  too  closely 
bound   up   with   one   another  to   allow   us   to   treat   them 


196  The  Psychuiogy   of  Nations 

practically  as  independent.  No  nation  any  longer  stands 
alone.  Internationalism  is  an  idea  that  penetrates  all  other 
practical  ideas.  And  no  internal  problems  of  any  nation 
can  be  wholly  local.  The  world  is  in  a  peculiar  but  also 
an  inspiring  way  at  the  present  time  a  single  field  of  labor 
for  the  educational  thinker  and  indeed  the  teacher  in  every 
field  of  human  life. 


CHAPTER  IV 

PEACE   AND    MILITARISM 

Among  the  many  pedagogical  questions  raised  and  given 
new  significance  by  the  war,  is  that  of  the  teaching  about 
war  and  about  peace.  This  is  a  question  of  ideals,  and  of 
values  and  the  teaching  of  history.  There  are  practical  and 
superficial  questions  to  be  considered.  There  are  also  more 
profound  problems,  since  all  our  teaching  of  good  and 
evil  is  implicated.  Shall  we  continue,  in  one  moment,  to 
assume  that  war  is  the  greatest  glory  in  the  world,  and  in 
the  next  to  condemn  it  as  the  greatest  of  evils?  Shall  we 
as  teachers  take  the  standpoint  of  pacifism?  Or  shall  we 
be  still  apostles  of  the  heroic  order?  This  is  really  no  sim- 
ple matter,  and  it  is  not  one  to  be  laid  aside,  directly  it 
begins  to  disturb  us,  as  unimportant.  No  one  passing 
through  the  experiences  of  the  past  four  years  can  have 
wholly  escaped  this  dilemma,  or  can  have  kept  himself  en- 
tirely aloof  from  the  doubts  and  perplexities  that  must  al- 
ways be  attached  to  religious  and  philosophical  problems  of 
good  and  evil.  These  doubts  and  hesitations  are  necessarily 
increased  when  we  try  to  become  consistent  teachers  and 
wise  counselors  of  the  young. 

It  would  be  of  psychological  interest  at  least  to  collect 
all  the  arguments  and  opinions  that  have  been  put  forth 
about  the  good  and  evil  of  war.  There  is  a  tendency  for 
moralists  to  go  to  extremes.  The  writers  on  war  are 
likely  to  be  either  ardent  pacifists  or  strong  militarists. 
They  do  not  try  to  strike  a  balance  between  good  and  evil, 
but  war  is  either  a  great  blessing  upon  mankind  or  the  great- 
est curse  of  the  ages.     In  general  they  do  not  seek  to  base 

197 


198 


The  Psychology  of  Nations 


their  conclusions  upon  ultimate  philosophical  principles,  but 
rather  upon  moral  or  biological  principles,  or,  again,  upon 
preferences  for  the  activities  of  war  or  the  arts  of  peace. 
How  very  different  the  good  and  evil  of  war  and  peace  may 
seem  from  different  points  of  view  is  well  shown  by  the 
following  excerpt  from  a  daily  newspaper: 


A  DEADLY  PARALLEL 


This  Is  the  Way  Germany 

Talks  to  Young  Boys 

OF  Scout  Age 

"  War  is  the  noblest  and  holiest 
expression  of  human  activity.  For 
us,  too,  the  glad  great  hour  of  bat- 
tle will  strike.  Still  and  deep  in 
the  German  heart  must  live  the 
joy  of  battle  and  the  longing  for 
it.  Let  us  ridicule  to  the  utmost 
the  old  women  in  breeches  who 
fear  war  and  deplore  it  as  cruel 
and  revolting.  No;  war  is  beau- 
tiful. Its  august  sublimity  ele- 
vates the  human  heart  beyond  the 
earthly  and  the  common.  In  the 
cloud  palace  above  sit  the  heroes, 
Frederick  the  Great  and  Blucher 
and  all  the  men  of  action  —  the 
Great  Emperor,  Moltke,  Roon, 
Bismarck  are  there  as  well,  but 
not  the  old  women  who  would 
take  away  our  joy  in  war.  When 
here  on  earth  a  battle  is  won  by 
German  arms  and  the  faithful 
dead  ascend  to  Heaven,  a  Pots- 
dam lance  corporal  will  call  the 
guard  to  the  door  and  'Old  Fritz' 
(Frederick  the  Great),  springing 
from  his  golden  throne,  will  give 
the  command  to  present  arms. 
That  is  the  Heaven  of  Young 
Germany. 

"  Because  only  in  war  all  the 
virtues  which  militarism  regards 
hiehly  are  given  a  chance  to  un- 
fold, because  only  in  war  the  truly 


This  Is  What  the  Scout 

Organization  Teaches 

American  Boys 

From   the   "Handbook  for   Boys,"    17th 
edition,   page  454. 

"  The  movement  is  one  for  ef- 
ficiency and  patriotism.  It  does 
not  try  to  make  soldiers  of  boy 
scouts,  but  to  make  boys  who  will 
turn  out  as  men  to  be  fine  citizens, 
and  who  will  if  their  country 
needs  them  make  better  soldiers 
for  having  been  scouts.  No  one 
can  be  a  good  American  unless  he 
is  a  good  citizen,  and  every  boy 
ought  to  train  himself  so  that  as 
a  man  he  will  be  able  to  do  his 
full  duty  to  the  community.  I 
want  to  see  the  boy  scouts  not 
merely  utter  fine  sentiments,  but 
act  on  them,  not  merely  sing  '  My 
Country,  'Tis  of  Thee,'  but  act  in 
a  way  that  will  give  them  a  coun- 
try to  be  proud  of.  No  man  is  a 
good  citizen  unless  he  so  acts  as 
to  show  that  he  actually  uses  the 
Ten  Commandments,  and  trans- 
lates the  Golden  Rule  into  his  life 
conduct  —  and  I  don't  mean  by 
this  exceptional  cases  under  spec- 
tacular circumstances,  but  I  mean 
applying  the  Ten  Commandments 
and  the  Golden  Rule  in  the  ordi- 
nary affairs  of  everyday  life.  I 
hope  the  boy  scouts  will  practice 
truth  and  square  dealing  and 
courage  and  honesty,  so  that  when 


Peace  and  Militarism  199 

heroic  comes  into  play,  for  the  as  young  men  they  bes^in  taking  a 
reahzation  of  which  on  earth  mili-  part  not  only  in  earning  their  own 
tarism  is  above  all  concerned;  livelihood,  but  in  governing  the 
therefore,  it  seems  to  us  who  are  community,  they  may  be  able  to 
filled  with  the  spirit  of  militarism  show  in  practical  fashion  their  in- 
that  war  is  a  holy  thing,  the  holi-  sistence  upon  the  great  truth  that 
est  on  earth,  and  this  high  esti-  the  eighth  and  ninth  command- 
mate  of  war  in  its  turn  makes  an  ments  are  directly  related  to 
essential  ingredient  of  the  military  everyday  life,  not  only  between 
spirit.  There  is  nothing  that  men  as  such  in  their  private  rela- 
trades-people  complain  of  so  tions,  but  between  men  and  the 
much  as  that  we  regard  it  as  government  of  which  they  are  a 
holy."  part.    Indeed,  the  boys,  even  while 

only  boys,  can  have  a  very  real 
effect  upon  the  conduct  of  the 
grown-up  members  of  the  com- 
munity, for  decency  and  square 
dealing  are  just  as  contagious  as 
vice  and  corruption." 

The  praise  of  war  takes  many  forms,  and  invokes  many 
fundamental  principles  —  ethical,  sesthetic,  biological,  socio- 
logical. From  Leibnitz'  saying  that  perpetual  peace  is  a 
motto  fit  only  for  a  graveyard  to  Moltke's  that  peace  is 
only  a  dream  and  not  even  a  beautiful  dream,  there  is  a  long 
list  of  defenses  of  war.  This  philosophy  of  war  is  by  no 
means  peculiarly  German,  although  German  writers  seem  to 
have  been  the  most  ardent  apologists  of  war  in  recent  times. 
Treitschke,  Schmitz  (29),  Scheler  (77),  Nusbaum  (86), 
Arndt,  Steinmetz,  Lasson,  Engelbrecht,  Schoonmaker,  all 
sing  the  praises  of  war  as  the  most  glorious  work  of  man, 
or  as  performing  for  civilization  some  noble  good.  Even 
Hegel  said  that  wars  invigorate  humanity  just  as  the  storm 
preserves  the  sea  from  putrescence. 

But  this  praise  of  war,  we  say,  is  by  no  means  exclusively 
German.  Thucydides  thought  war  a  noble  school  of  hero- 
ism, the  exercise  ground  of  the  nations.  To  Mohammed 
and  his  Arabs  war  seemed  not  only  in  itself  a  heroism,  we 
are  told,  but  a  divine  act.  This  belief  in  war  as  divine 
is  an  idea  that  is  very  wide-spread  among  primitive  peoples. 
Cramb,  the  English  writer,   says  that  it  is  very  easy  to 


200  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

demonstrate  that  the  glory  of  battle  is  an  illusion,  but  by 
the  same  argument  you  may  demonstrate  that  all  glory 
and  life  itself  is  an  illusion  and  a  mockery.  Redier  says 
that  the  war  has  brought  us  all  the  noble  joys  so  necessary  to 
stimulate  mankind,  and  one  no  longer  finds  happiness,  there- 
fore, in  sleeping  comfortably,  but  only  in  living  bravely. 

There  is  no  lack,  indeed,  of  recognition  of  the  heroic  mo- 
tive in  war.  Sometimes  the  argument  appeals  to  religion, 
sometimes  to  art,  sometimes  to  morality.  Sometimes  the 
advocates  of  war  are  thinking  of  war  as  the  great  adven- 
ture. War  and  the  thought  of  war  induce  an  ecstasy,  a 
glow  of  the  feelings.  War  is  thought  of  as  an  expression  of 
normal,  healthy  life,  as  making  life  more  abundant  and 
more  beautiful.  War  brings  out  fundamental  virtues  in 
the  individual ;  it  also  destroys  the  w^eaker  and  the  meaner 
race  and  leaves  the  strong  and  the  virtuous.  Struggle,  they 
say,  is  the  method  of  civilization.  Again,  it  is  urged  that 
war  is  always  just  in  its  issues.  Like  the  old  ordeal  which 
ahvays  registered  the  decrees  of  heaven,  war  is  the  just 
arbiter  of  fate.  The  saving  of  the  world  through  blood- 
shed, the  uniting  of  the  world  through  w-ar,  war  as  the 
great  teacher  of  mankind,  war  as  the  creator  of  great  per- 
sonalities —  all  these  are  persistent  themes  in  the  litera- 
ture of  war.  There  is  no  place  for  the  pacifist  in  the  minds 
of  these  apologists  of  the  heroic  order.  The  crises  of  war 
are  historic  necessities ;  they  come  when  it  is  time  to  release 
people  from  the  bondage  of  the  past  and  to  bring  in- 
dividualistic generations  back  to  the  sense  of  duty  and  of 
loyalty  to  great  causes.  This  is  the  belief  of  many,  even 
now. 

On  the  other  side  we  find  the  great  variety  of  pacifistic 
minds.  War  to  the  pacifists  is  wrong,  unholy,  morally  sin- 
ful, biologically  and  economically  and  in  every  other  way 
evil.  The  conscientious  objector's  point  of  view  is  very 
simple.  War  antagonizes  some  principle  which  is  reli- 
giously or  morally  supreme  for  him.     Therefore  there  can 


Peace  and  Militarism  201 

be  no  justification  of  war  whatever,  and  it  ought  to  be 
aboHshed  at  any  price.  When  you  ask  the  objector  to  go 
to  war,  you  invite  him  to  commit  a  flagrant  sin.  The  Eng- 
Hsh  literature  of  pacifism  is  full  of  this  moral  and  religious 
protestation  against  war  which  in  the  minds  of  the  objectors 
becomes  a  finality  beyond  which  it  is  futile  to  ask  them  to 

go- 

The  psychological  and  the  biological  pacifists  are  hardly 
less  emphatic  in  their  condemnation  of  war.  The  biological 
thinker  undertakes  to  refute  the  theory  that  war  is  selective. 
He  counts  the  cost  of  war  in  terms  of  human  life  and  of 
racial  vitality,  and  produces  a  condemning  document.  That 
war  indeed  selects  but  selects  unfavorably  and  in  an  ad- 
verse direction  is  the  conclusion  of  many,  among  them 
Savorgnan  in  his  book  "  La  Guerra  e  la  Populazione,"  in 
which  he  calls  war  dysgcnic.  The  psychologist  tends  to  see 
in  war  a  reversion,  a  lapse  to  barbarism.  War  is  a  product 
of  the  original  savage  in  man,  whom  civilization  has  never 
tamed,  as  Freud  would  say.  War  lingers  because  of  man's 
love  of  old  institutions.  We  cling  to  old  habits  and  cus- 
toms, which  take  on  a  semblance  of  the  aesthetic,  because  of 
their  antiquity  and  old  associations.  This  is  the  explana- 
tion by  Nicolai.  Russell  thinks  men  fight  because  they  are 
still  ignorant  and  despotic.  Patrick  thinks  of  war  as  a  slip 
in  the  psychic  machinery.  MacCurdy  {2,7)  and  others 
think  of  war  as  a  mental  or  a  social  disease. 

Upon  the  hardships  of  war,  its  economic  futility  and 
its  sheer  senselessness,  when  looked  at  from  the  stand- 
point of  any  rational  desire,  many  base  their  conclusion 
that  war  is  evil.  The  working  man  and  all  the  masses  are 
likely  to  concur  in  this  opinion.  When  they  examine  war 
they  see  that  they  themselves  as  they  think  are  used  in 
the  interest  of  the  few,  that  they  shed  their  blood  for  a 
glory  in  which  they  do  not  share.  They  say,  all  men  are 
brothers,  and  so  why  should  they  kill  one  another.  Men 
seem  more  real  to  them  than  do  boundaries  of  countries 


202  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

which  they  never  see,  and  the  interests  of  wealth  that  is 
also  invisible. 

Such  thought  as  this  has  behind  it  some  of  the  most 
powerful  minds,  as  we  know.  It  is  Tolstoi's  philosophy, 
and  it  is  the  argument  of  such  men  as  Novicow.  The  pro- 
fessional economist  and  the  student  of  history  add  their 
protests.  They  say  that  military  peoples  fade  away,  while 
the  peaceful  live  and  prosper,  that  "  the  country  whose 
military  power  is  irresistible  is  doomed."  These  are  the 
words  of  Roberts.  Some  try  to  demonstrate  that  nothing 
is  gained  economically  by  war ;  that  all  the  work  of  war  is 
destructive,  to  every  one  engaged  in  it.  It  is  argued  that 
the  nation  that  is  suited  to  live  will  prevail  without  wars; 
and  that  without  this  inner  superiority,  war  will  avail  noth- 
ing. War  is  bad  business,  in  the  opinion  of  these  economic 
thinkers.  War  is  like  setting  the  dog  on  the  customer  at 
the  door,  the  practical  man  in  England  complained  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  war.  As  to  war  being  associated 
with  intelligence  and  with  virtue  in  nations,  or  as  to  its  ever 
producing  either  intellectual  or  moral  qualities,  many  would 
flatly  deny  that  war  ever  has  such  a  result.  The  opposite 
would  seem  nearer  the  truth  to  them.  Military  nations  are 
unintelligent  nations,  and  militarism  is  always  brutalizing. 

Such  pacifism  and  the  dream  of  universal  peace  are  no 
new  ideas  in  the  world.  Like  the  philosophy  of  war 
pacifism  has  a  long  history.  There  have  been  pacifists 
everywhere  and  presumably  at  all  times,  since  pacifism  is 
quite  as  much  a  temperament  as  it  is  an  idea  or  a  philosophy, 
Cramb  tells  us  that  all  recent  centuries  have  had  their  doc- 
trines of  pacifism,  each  century  having  its  own  characteristic 
variety.  In  the  time  of  the  Marlborough  wars,  there  ap- 
peared the  book  of  Abbe  de  St.  Pierre  denouncing  all 
wars.  In  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  there  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  Manchester  school,  maintaining  that  the 
peace  of  Europe  must  be  secured  not  by  religion,  but  by 
the  cooperation  of  the  industrial   forces  of  the  continent. 


Peace  and  Militarism  203 

Finally,  says  Cramb,  we  see  the  characteristic  thought  of 
the  twentieth  century  in  the  position  that  war  is  bad  be- 
cause it  is  contrary  to  social  well-being  and  is  economically 
profitless,  alike  to  the  victor  and  the  vanquished.  This  is 
the  pacifism  of  the  socialist  who  holds  that  the  ties  of  com- 
mon labor  and  economic  state  are  fundamental,  and  divi- 
sions into  nationality  are  secondary  and  unimportant ;  and 
that  militarism  belongs  to  the  pernicious  state  of  society 
which  perpetuates  capitalism  and  privilege  and  to  govern- 
ment as  a  function  of  the  favored  classes. 

This  is  certainly  not  the  place  to  try  to  put  order  into 
this  conflicting  mass  of  opinion  about  war  and  peace  by 
working  out  the  principles  of  a  philosophy  of  good  and 
evil,  since  this  would  mean  to  attack  one  of  the  most  funda- 
mental of  all  problems  of  philosophy.  It  seems  to  be  plain, 
however,  that  neither  upon  biological  grounds  nor  by  ethical 
principles,  nor  by  finding  any  consensus  in  the  desires  and 
opinions  of  thinkers  can  we  reach  any  hard  and  fast  con- 
clusions about  the  good  and  evil  of  war.  It  is  rather 
by  a  broad  interpretation  of  the  world  and  of  his- 
tory and  the  nature  of  national  consciousness,  by  some 
genetic  view  of  national  life,  that  we  are  most  likely  to  see 
our  way  toward  a  practical  view  of  the  present  good  and 
evil  of  war.  War  is  a  phase  of  the  whole  process  of  social 
development  of  nations.  We  think  of  nations  as  living 
and  growing,  and  of  a  world  which  is  gradually  maturing. 
War  obtains  a  natural  explanation  on  sociological  and 
psychological  principles,  not  as  a  disease,  but  as  a  natural 
consequence  and  condition  of  the  formation  of  nations, 
or  of  any  type  of  horde  or  group.  In  the  course  of 
the  development  of  nations  we  see  psychological  factors 
coming  more  and  more  to  the  front.  Desires  which  are 
more  or  less  consciously  avowed  become  the  motives  of  his- 
tory. It  is  in  the  play  of  these  desires:  their  fixation, 
their  generalization,  and  transformation,  the  manner  in 
which  they  become  attached  to  specific  objects,  that  we  seek 


204  Tlic  Psychology   of  Nations 

the  explanation  of  wars  and  of  the  especial  psycholoj^y  of 
nations.  Nations  have  lived  secluded  and  guarded  lives, 
because  of  the  nature  of  the  desires  which  were  most  funda- 
mental in  their  lives,  and  the  objects  upon  which  these  de- 
sires have  become  directed.  Now  nations  show  some  si^s 
of  emerging  from  their  seclusion,  of  abandoning  their  ambi- 
tions of  empire,  and  leading  a  more  complex  and  more  prac- 
tical life. 

In  this  progress  we  see  the  possibility  of  the  final  dis- 
appearance of  war.  But  we  have  no  right  to  pervert  either 
history  or  education  in  the  effort  to  eliminate  war,  or  even 
to  pass  judgments  upon  w^ar  prematurely  or  upon  the  basis 
of  personal  preferences,  or  the  moods  of  any  moment.  The 
whole  world  might,  conceivably,  be  brought  together  and 
be  made  to  declare  solemnly  that  there  should  be  no  more 
war.  Nations  would  thereby  voluntarily  relinquish  their 
aggressive  thoughts,  put  aside  the  love  they  have  for  the 
heroic  and  take  justice  and  peace  as  their  watchwords. 
And  all  this  would  seem  ideal.  But  if  the  elimination  of 
war  should  mean  that  we  have  no  longer  anything  for 
which  men  are  walling  to  die,  if  merely  to  escape  from  war 
we  voluntarily  sacrifice  good  that  more  than  counterbalances 
the  evil  we  overcome,  w-e  should  say  that  peace  had  been 
bought  at  too  high  a  price.  Terrible  as  war  is,  it  cannot 
be  judged  by  itself  alone.  We  have  a  right  to  look  for- 
ward to  a  time  when  there  shall  be  no  more  war,  just  as 
everywhere  it  seems  to  be  instinctive  for  us  to  try  to 
gain  good  without  its  attendant  trouble  and  evil.  In  the 
meantime  the  world  had  best  busy  itself,  mainly,  in  our 
view,  with  creating  those  things  that  are  best,  rather  than 
in  destroying  those  things  that  are  w^orst.  Nations,  like 
individuals,  must  lead  bravely  hazardous  lives,  without  too 
much  thought  of  dangers.  Peace  as  a  sole  program  for 
the  making  of  history  appears  to  be  too  narrow,  and  espe- 
cially too  unproductive.  Internationalism  that  is  merely 
a  combination  of  peoples  to  prevent  war  is  not  very  in- 


Peace  and  MiUiarism  205 

spiring,  especially  since  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  even 
leads  to  peace.  A  broad  historical  view  that  will  enable 
us  just  now  to  make  good  come  out  of  the  evil  of  war 
will  be  a  better  organ  of  conscious  evolution  than  a  philoso- 
phy of  peace  can  possibly  be. 

Such  views  as  these  give  us  at  least  some  clews  to  the 
educational  and  pedagogical  problems  of  war  and  peace. 
We  can  distinguish  between  an  education  which  deals  spe- 
cifically with  such  problems,  endeavoring  to  treat  them 
sharply  and  with  finality,  making  clear  moral  decisions,  and 
an  education  which  by  enriching  the  mind  and  by  educating 
all  the  selective  faculties  leads  to  an  appreciation  of  all 
great  practical  and  moral  questions  as  aspects  of  the  whole 
of  history  and  of  life. 

Let  us  see  what  the  specific  teaching  of  peace  may  and 
may  not  include.  First  of  all  we  cannot,  for  educational 
purposes,  judge  everything  in  the  lives  of  nations  by 
moral  principles.  The  ideal  of  universal  brotherhood  and 
cooperation,  of  sacrifice  and  altruism,  cannot  be  realized  in 
the  present  stage  of  history.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
stern  picture  of  justice  is  one  that  fits  into  the  present  mood 
of  the  world.  Justice  is  the  natural  link  between  individual- 
ism and  altruism.  A  world  determined  upon  seeing  jus- 
tice done,  a  world  which,  without  setting  absolute  values 
upon  peace  and  war,  does  distinguish  between  just  and 
unjust  wars,  between  the  demands  and  the  needs  of  peoples, 
leans  toward  the  moral  life.  It  has  little  to  say  about  duties 
as  yet,  or  comparatively  Httle,  but  it  has  a  strong  concep- 
tion of  rights.  A  deep  enough  interest  in  justice,  by  its  own 
momentum,  introduces  duties  into  the  practical  life.  In 
time  the  world  will  perhaps  not  be  satisfied  with  seeing  and 
recognizing  justice,  and  ensuring  it  in  great  crises;  it  will 
make  justice  as  a  matter  of  course. 

This  idea  of  justice  seems,  on  the  whole,  to  be  the  best 
basis  for  the  teaching  now  of  international  morality.  The 
teaching  of  pacifism,  enlarging  upon  the  biological  waste 


2o6  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

of  war.  trying  to  present  the  realism  of  war  in  its  worst 
light  in  order  to  overcome  the  warlike  spirit  and  to  assist  the 
doctrines  of  internationalism  to  take  effect  upon  the  mind 
seems  to  be  the  wrong  way  of  teaching  peace.  We  seem 
to  be  obligated  to  teach  war  as  it  is.  We  cannot  conceal 
its  heroic  side  for  fear  of  perpetuating  war,  and  we  must  not 
conceal  the  brutality  of  war  for  fear  of  destroying  morale 
and  the  fighting  spirit.  And  it  is  to  be  much  doubted 
whether  it  is  ever  necessary  to  teach  history  unfairly  and 
one-sidedly  in  times  either  of  war  or  of  peace.  We  de- 
pend upon  larger  effects  and  deeper  judgments  than  can  be 
produced  by  selecting  and  distorting  the  facts.  Nothing 
is  meaner  in  national  life  than  dishonest  history. 

Education  in  the  ideal  of  peace,  which  we  may  hope 
to  be  the  state  of  the  world  in  the  future,  will  be  an  ad- 
justment of  the  mind  to  new  and  practical  modes  of  life 
rather  than  the  establishing  of  a  principle.  The  educated 
attitude  of  mind  which  will  best  safeguard  the  peace  of  the 
world  must  include  an  intelligent  knowledge  of  all  the  agen- 
cies proposed  to  aid  in  establishing  this  state  of  harmony 
toward  which  we  look  forward.  We  must  all  know  about 
arbitration,  leagues  of  nations,  courts  of  honor,  understand 
diplomacy  better  and  the  arguments  for  disarmament,  under- 
stand the  economic  and  the  industrial  situation,  the  possi- 
bilities of  cooperation,  reduction  of  the  rights  and  privileges 
of  classes,  democratic  movements.  The  inculcation  of  such 
knowledge  is  an  education  for  peace.  There  is  little  that  is 
abstruse  Jn  any  of  these  ideas,  and  the  very  young  child  is 
not  too  young  to  know  something  of  these  wider  aspects  of 
the  social  life.  All  these  may  be  presented  in  a  concrete 
form  as  a  part  of  the  work  of  conveying  a  knowledge  of  cur- 
rent history. 

We  may  think  of  various  cures  for  war.  and  various 
efforts  that  might  be  made  educationally  to  prevent 
war.  Peace  might  effectually  be  cultivated  by  an  educa- 
tional propaganda.     But  after  all  it  is  not  such  cures  of 


Peace  and  Militarism  207 

war  as  this  that  we  are  most  concerned  about  in  the 
work  of  education.  We  might  even  tend  to  establish  in 
this  way  a  peace  which  would  be  detrimental  to  the  higher 
interests  of  civilization.  A  true  educational  philosophy,  at 
any  rate,  is  not  to  he  dislodged  from  its  purposa  of  keeping 
education  constructive  rather  than  inhibitory.  This  insti- 
tution of  education  must  not  be  too  much  influenced  by  the 
temporary  moods  of  the  day,  by  the  present  gloomy  evi- 
dences of  the  devastation  of  war.  We  must  teach  and 
prepare  for  an  abundant  life  in  which  there  is  glory  and 
wide  opportunity,  and  in  which  the  motives  of  power  may 
be  satisfied.  Then  peace  can  take  care  of  itself.  But  this 
abundant  life  must  be  a  life  of  activity,  not  of  mere  pa- 
triotism and  subjective  glorification  and  nationalistic  in- 
terest. Vanity,  the  low  order  of  enthusiasms,  the  glory  of 
display,  can  no  longer  have  a  place  in  this  national  life. 

There  appears  to  be  a  pedagogical  lesson  in  the  contrast 
between  the  heroic  and  the  moral  view  of  teaching  war  and 
peace  illustrated  by  the  German  philosophy  of  war  and 
the  ideal  of  the  Boy  Scout  organization.  Deducting  some- 
thing for  literary  exaggeration,  we  may  say  that  educa- 
tion cannot  afford  to  neglect  either  of  these  attitudes,  but 
must  indeed  in  some  way  combine  them.  The  exaggera- 
tion consists  on  one  side  in  praising  the  specific  act  of  war ; 
but  on  the  other  side  there  is  plainly  lacking  something  of 
the  dramatic  appeal  which  any  ideal  life  for  the  young  must 
have.  War  is  an  evil,  but  the  spirit  that  makes  war  is  by 
no  means  an  evil.  The  philosophy  of  war  proves  its  fail- 
ure by  ignoring  the  moral  ideal  altogether,  or  regarding 
morality  as  something  solely  national,  but  the  other,  it  may 
be,  puts  the  moral  ideal  in  a  pedagogically  impossible  posi- 
tion. Both  the  content  and  the  form  must  be  taken  into 
account  in  any  educational  plan  that  hopes  to  exert  power  or 
to  be  influential  in  any  important  way  now,  and  it  is  the 
form  which,  more  than  anything  else,  is  still  lacking  in  our 
whole  procedure  of  education. 


208  The   Psyclioloyy    of  S  aliuus 

Preparedness  and  Military  Training 

Military  training  has  now  of  course  become  a  practical 
question  with  us  and  with  every  nation.  It  is  the  military 
use  of  military  education  that  must  first  of  all  l)e  con- 
sidered. For  that  reason  it  must  primarily  be  a  problem 
upon  which  political  authorities  and  military  experts  must 
decide.  These  experts  must  be  competent  to  tell  us  what 
military  equipment  is  necessary  at  any  time  to  meet  the 
requirements  of  our  political  situation,  and  they  must  be 
able  to  advise  about  the  amount  and  kind  of  actual  military 
training  necessary  to  make  this  physical  equipment  most 
effective.  All  this,  plainly,  must  be  provided  whether  it  be 
good  or  bad  from  a  general  educational  standpoint.  But 
preparedness  and  national  defense  mean,  of  course,  more 
than  the  possession  of  guns  and  more  than  military  train- 
ing as  such.  And  there  can  be  no  hard  and  fast  line  be- 
tween military  preparedness  and  the  wider  technical  pre- 
paredness in  which  all  the  equipment  and  skill  of  scientific 
and  mechanical  activities  of  the  country  are  always  ready 
to  be  mobilized  in  the  defense  of  it;  or  between  these  and 
the  still  more  general  preparedness  through  the  organizn- 
tion  and  control  of  the  human  factor  in  w-ays  that  are 
not  specifically  military  or  mechanically  technical  at  all. 

If  preparation  for  defense  is  by  no  means  exhausted  by 
military'  training,  on  the  other  hand  not  all  military  train- 
ing is  intended  for  defense.  Decision  about  the  actual 
amount  and  kind  of  military  training,  we  say,  may  be  left 
to  the  expert,  but  it  is  for  the  psychologist  and  the  educator 
to  decide  whether  we  need  a  mere  minimum  of  such  train- 
ing or  a  general  military  training  for  educational  purposes. 
After  all.  however,  this  is  perhaps  more  a  matter  of  taste 
in  educational  practices  than  of  learning.  There  is  plenty 
of  opinion  at  least  on  both  sides.  Some  maintain  that  mili- 
tary discipline  is  of  very  great  benefit  to  the  man  and  to 
society.     From  the  German  point  of  view  it  is  the  equivalent 


Peace  and  Militarism  209 

of  hygiene  for  the  individual.  It  is  a  national  regimen 
for  physical  and  mental  health.  It  is  also  the  symbol  and 
the  expression  of  social  solidarity.  Many  believe  that  the 
discipline  of  soldiering  would  be  especially  good  for  all 
American  boys.  But  there  is  no  dearth  of  evidence  on  the 
other  side  —  that  military  training  in  so  far  as  it  is  really 
conducted  in  the  military  manner  is  brutalizing. 

After  all,  we  say  this  may  be  a  matter  of  preference. 
Some  like  military  discipline  in  the  schools  and  everywhere ; 
some  do  not.  The  present  writer  for  one  will  confess  that 
he  does  not.  It  is  not  the  danger  of  making  a  people  war- 
like that  one  sees  in  it,  so  much  as  the  certainty  of  intro- 
ducing into  all  the  daily  life  a  spirit  that  is  inconsistent  with 
our  stage  of  civilization  and  with  the  most  w^holesome  spirit 
of  education.  It  savors  of  the  unprogressive.  It  means,  in 
our  opinion,  the  introduction  into  the  school,  in  a  far  too 
easy  and  simple  way,  and  consequently  at  far  too  low  a  level, 
something  that  ought  to  be  put  into  education  in  a  differ- 
ent manner.  The  sense  of  solidarity  and  the  idealism 
which  the  German  has  found  in  his  military  discipline  we 
must  express  in  some  other  way.  It  is  especially  the  un- 
productiveness of  military  life,  and  the  constant  suggestion 
of  that  which  is  archaic  without  either  the  practical  setting 
or  the  ornamental  life  to  which  such  things  belong,  that 
are  especially  to  be  charged  against  militarism. 

We  ought  to  ask,  rather,  how  peace  morale,  and  the 
essentials  of  the  warlike  spirit  may  be  maintained  without 
military  training.  Is  it  not  rather  by  way  of  the  more  gen- 
eral and  untechnical  processes  of  education  which  make 
for  physical  expertness,  by  fundamental  social  education, 
by  giving  attention  to  our  foundations  of  religious  educa- 
tion, that  we  shall  be  able  to  create  and  sustain  the  most 
efficient  morale?  The  best  foundation  for  all  necessary 
military  activities  of  a  free  people  appears  to  be  a  by-prod- 
uct, so  to  speak,  of  peaceful  life  sustained  at  a  high  point  of 
efficiency  and  enthusiasm.     Military  training  disconnected 


2IO  The  Psychology   of  Nalioju 

from  its  immediate  use  and  application  in  war  must  appear 
to  some  and  indeed  to  many  as  a  misfit  in  modern  civili/^ed 
life.  This  is  not  an  argument  for  pacifism,  however.  The 
war  has  taught  us  that  militarism  and  military  capacity  in 
high  degree  may  spring  up  from  very  peaceful  soil,  and 
also  that  military  training,  however  perfect,  is  no  substi- 
tute for  the  generic  virtues  out  of  which  courage  and  pa- 
triotism grow.  In  the  long  run  will  it  not  be  the  country 
that  can  do  without  military  training  that  will  have  the 
advantage?  Or  the  country  in  which  military  prepared- 
ness is  so  merged  in  everything  else  as  to  be  indistinguishable 
from  the  rest  of  life?  Is  there  not,  in  a  word,  a  prepared- 
ness that  will  make  a  country  superior  and  safe  both  in  war 
and  in  peace? 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   TEACHING   OF    PATRIOTISM 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  word  (unless  it  be  democracy) 
about  which  so  many  questions  gather  as  now  cling  to  the 
word  "  patriotism."  Patriotism  is  praised  as  the  highest 
virtue ;  it  is  also  cursed  as  the  cause  of  war.  Some  think  of 
it  as  the  sole  cause  of  war.  Some  would  like  to  see  it  dis- 
appear for  the  reason  that  they  believe  it  at  best  an  old  and 
out-lived  social  virtue,  now  having  become  merely  orna- 
mental and  an  obstacle  to  the  true  socialization  of  the  world. 
Some  think  patriotism  still  the  center  of  the  moral  and  the 
social  life. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  attempt  a  psychological  analysis 
of  patriotism,  but  we  may  at  least  try  to  enumerate  the 
principal  factors  in  it,  and  say  what  we  think  patriotism 
as  a  virtue  —  or  a  vice  —  is.  Patriotism  in  our  view  is 
normally  loyalty  to  country  as  a  functioning  unit  in  a 
world  of  nations.  It  is  devotion  to  all  the  aspects  and 
functions  of  a  country  as  an  historical  entity.  We  must 
think  of  these  historical  entities,  moreover,  as  leading  lives 
in  which,  although  their  own  ambitions  for  honor  and 
greatness  are  legitimate,  there  must  be  a  practical  recogni- 
tion of  the  legitimacy  of  similar  interests  on  the  part  of 
all  other  nations,  and  in  which  the  recognition  of  the  com- 
mon interests  of  nations  is  also  freely  made.  Since  na- 
tions perform  no  one  single  function  and  have  no  single  mo- 
tive of  life  in  their  normal  state,  patriotism  can  be  no 
devotion  to  a  single  purpose  or  cause.  Such  patriotism 
as  this,  we  may  say,  does  not  antagonize  internationalism. 
Loyalty  to  country  is  loyalty  to  the  functions  and  interests 
that  properly  belong  to  country.     The  individual,  the  fam- 


2  12  The  Psychulugy  of  Nalious 

ily,  the  country  and  all  intervening  groups  and  entities  are 
natural  formations.  To  each  of  these  entities  there  is 
due  a  loyalty  precisely  measured  by  the  character  of  the 
functions  which  these  entities  perform. 

This  view  of  patriotism  is  plainly,  both  in  its  theoretical 
aspect  and  its  practical  consequences,  widely  different  from 
those  that  end  in  pure  internationalism.  Its  essential  fea- 
ture is  that  it  recognizes  the  validity  of  all  entities  and 
groups  about  which  deep  feeling  has  grown  up.  This 
means,  of  course,  that  as  criteria  of  social  values  these 
feelings  are  placed  ahead  of  certain  logical  or  scientific  con- 
siderations. Pure  internationalism  of  the  intellectual  type 
recognizes  the  validity  only  of  the  whole  world  group. 
Nicolai,  for  example,  says  that  there  is  a  morality  and 
there  are  rights  pertaining  to  the  individual  and  to  the 
whole  of  humanity,  but  all  intervening  groups  are  temporary 
and  artificial.  That,  certainly,  we  should  not  agree  with. 
The  coming  greater  coordination  of  the  world  we  may  sup- 
pose will  deepen  and  intensify  patriotism,  rather  than  di- 
minish it.  The  homogeneity  toward  which  the  biologists  tell 
us  we  are  tending  and  ought  to  approach  is  one  in  which,  it 
is  likely,  still  sharper  national  outlines  may  well  appear. 
The  ambitions,  the  functions,  and  the  culture  of  nations 
ought  to  be  made  clearer  rather  than  be  lost  in  the  coming 
internationalism.  We  shall  still  in  the  Hegelian  sense  find 
our  reality  in  and  through  the  state.  An  aroused  sense  of 
the  function  and  worth  of  country  will  be  the  basis  of 
patriotism.  Advancement  toward  internationalism  will  be 
made  by  a  generalized  patriotism  rather  than  by  outgrow- 
ing patriotism.  That  is,  it  is  by  passing  from  a  deepened 
loyalty  to  country  through  a  sense  of  the  validity  and  right 
of  the  patriotism  of  all  peoples  that  international  social 
consciousness  will  be  developed. 

So  all  those  very  numerous  views  of  patriotism  which 
assert  that  it  is  only  through  a  decline  of  patriotism  that 
a  rational  international  order  can  ever  be  established,  ap- 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  213 

pear  to  be  wrong.  A  fundamental  question  is  at  issue 
here.  It  concerns  in  part  the  criteria  of  valuation  in  the 
field  of  the  social  life.  The  kind  of  cosmopolitanism  and 
internationalism  that  demands  the  final  abrogation  of  the 
sentiment  of  patriotism  is,  as  we  have  intimated,  a  rational- 
istic doctrine.  It  is  an  attempt  to  extend  objective  prin- 
ciples into  the  realm  of  social  values.  Reason  tells  us, 
they  say,  that  we  ought  to  organize  universally  and  obliterate 
national  lines.  Reason  tells  us  we  should  make  no  distinc- 
tion between  ourselves  and  strangers,  between  enemies  and 
allies.  But  by  the  same  rationalism  we  may  break  up  any 
loyalty.  Patriotism  is  an  inner,  a  spiritual  force,  and  it 
has  its  roots  in  moods  and  forms  of  appreciation  which  have 
a  certain  finality  about  them,  for  the  reason  that  they  are 
deposits  from  the  whole  course  of  human  history.  Veblen 
says  it  is  a  matter  of  habit  to  what  particular  nationality  a 
man  will  become  attached  on  arriving  at  years  of  discre- 
tion. That  is  true,  and  it  is  of  course  the  whole  secret  of 
loyalty.  But  it  is  not  a  matter  of  unimportance  whether 
a  man  shall  become  attached  to  any  country.  It  is  the 
dynamic  power  of  loyalty  that  is  in  question,  if  we  consider 
its  practical  value.  Loyalty  grows  because  it  has  a  use, 
which  is  related  to  the  most  basic  feelings.  It  is  not  a 
product  of  reason,  and  cannot  justly  be  judged  on  purely 
rational  grounds. 

Any  political  ideal,  or  any  plan  for  a  world  order,  that 
would  minimize  patriotism  is  unnatural.  The  forms 
of  socialism  that  do  this  and  the  laissez-faire  tendencies  ap- 
pear to  have  left  out  of  the  reckoning  some  of  the  modes 
of  evaluating  experience  which  are  most  basic.  We  may 
recognize  all  the  excess  of  provincialism  in  the  native  pa- 
triotism of  the  peasant,  and  all  the  egoistic  motives  in  the 
patriotism  of  the  aristocrat  and  the  militarist,  but  still  we  see 
no  place  in  the  world  for  the  man  without  a  country.  It 
is  not  yet  the  workmen  of  the  cities,  who  say  that  all  men 
are   brothers,   who   can   lead   us   to  a  better  social  order. 


2  14  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

Patriotism  must  be  educated,  modernized,  made  more  pro- 
ductive, but  certainly  its  work  is  not  yet  done.  It  cannot  be 
cast  aside  as  something  archaic  and  only  a  part  of  the  orna- 
mental and  useless  encumbrances  of  life.  It  is  not  by 
weakening  loyalty  to  country,  but  by  stretigthening  it,  tliat 
internationalism  ivill  be  made  secure.  If  patriotism  fits  into 
modern  life  like  sand  in  the  machinery,  as  Veblen  says,  we 
must  see  how  patriotism  may  be  made  to  do  better  service. 

Some  views  about  patriotism  which  thus  disparage  it 
seem  to  be  based  upon  a  biological  conception  of  it.  Not 
a  few  writers  apparently  think  of  patriotism  as  a  fixed 
trait  of  the  human  organism,  even  as  a  kind  of  mendelian 
character  unrelated  to  other  social  qualities.  This  trait 
antagonizes  social  progress,  but  it  is  preserved  because  of 
secondary  values  which  it  represents,  such  as  moral  or 
aesthetic  values.  According  to  these  views  patriotism  may 
be  complex,  but  it  acts  like  a  unitary  character.  It  is  sub- 
ject, theoretically,  to  selection,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  it 
remains  a  strong  factor  in  the  temperament  of  nearly  all 
races. 

But  in  our  view  patriotism  is  something  less  precise  than 
all  this  would  imply.  It  is  a  form  in  which  the  most  fun- 
damental and  general  of  desires  are  expressed,  in  becoming 
fixated  upon  their  most  natural  and  necessary  objects.  It 
is  an  aspect  of  the  whole  process  of  development  of  the  af- 
fective life.  Leaving  out  patriotism  (if  such  a  thing  were 
possible)  would  mean  a  break  in  the  continuity  of  the  social 
life.  It  would  leave  one  group  of  functions  without  their 
natural  support  in  desire.  Economists  sometimes  seem  to 
leave  out  of  account  the  profound  emotional  forces  and 
the  irresistible  tendencies  which  make  social  groups.  They 
want  organizations  without  the  moods  and  impulses  by 
which  alone  social  bodies  are  formed  or  sustained ;  and  they 
expect  to  see  organization  broken  up  or  interest  in  it  lost 
while  all  the  conditions  that  keep  alive  the  passion  for  it 
are  intact.     Patriotism  and  the  existence  of  nations  seem, 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  215 

however,  to  be  the  opposite  sides  of  the  same  fact.  And  we 
may  assume  that  so  long  as  nations  exist,  at  any  rate,  pa- 
triotism will  exist,  and  one  of  the  most  necessary  functions 
of  public  education  will  be  the  regulation  of  the  motives 
and  feelings  which  are  contained  in  this  sentiment. 

Patriotism  is  first  of  all  to  be  considered,  then,  as  a 
phase  of  the  social  life  as  a  whole,  rather  than  as  an  unique 
emotion  or  a  special  variety  of  loyalty.  It  is  a  way  in 
which  the  sum  of  tendencies  that  enter  into  the  social  life 
become  fixated  upon  certain  qualities  of  the  environment,  or 
upon  certain  objects.  Patriotism  will  best  be  understood 
in  a  practical  way  by  observing  its  objects.  Patriotism  is  a 
total  mood;  country  is  a  total  object.  But  the  mood  of 
patriotism  expresses  varied  desires,  and  the  object  of  pa- 
triotism is  a  highly  complex  and  variable  object.  In  being 
loyal  to  ,or  devoted  to  country  in  the  sense  which  we 
usually  mean  when  we  say  one  is  patriotic,  we  are  devoted 
to  at  least  the  following  objects :  i )  physical  country  as 
home;  2)  the  ways,  customs,  standards  and  beliefs  of  the 
country;  3)  the  group  of  people  constituting  the  nation; 
and  here  race,  social  solidarity,  ideal  constructions  of  an 
united  people  having  common  purposes  and  possessions  en- 
ter; 4)  leaders;  5)  country  as  an  historical  entity  having 
rights  and  interests  —  a  living  being  having  experiences, 
ideals  and  characteristics.  The  educational  problem  is  of 
course  the  regulation  of  the  attachment  of  the  individuals 
of  a  nation  to  these  objects.  In  one  sense  this  educational 
problem  of  patriotism  is  nothing  less  than  that  of  de- 
veloping social  consciousness  itself.  It  is  precisely  the 
task  of  fostering  or  creating  in  the  child  the  basis  of  all 
loyalty.  Given  a  loyal  mind  in  the  child  and  a  normal 
environment,  we  need  to  be  concerned  but  little  about  the 
causes  and  the  groups  upon  which  that  loyalty  will  expend 
itself,  for  the  conditions  are  all  present  for  forming  an  at- 
tachment to  every  natural  group.  Considered  generically 
and  psychologically  there  is  no  patriotism,  we  say,  marked 


2i6  The   Psychology   of  Sal'tons 

off  from  everything  else,  and  there  is  no  one  object  that 
excites  patriotic  loyalty.  All  educational  influences  that 
strengthen  attachment  to  home,  all  social  feeling,  devo- 
tion to  the  ways  of  any  group  and  obedience  to  its  stand- 
ards, respect  for  all  law  and  authority,  all  appreciation  of 
historic  relations,  help  to  develop  patriotism,  merely  1^- 
cause  country,  in  these  aspects,  is  an  omnipresent  object 
to  which  the  feelings  thus  engendered  will  automatically  be- 
come to  some  extent  attached. 

The  first  task  in  the  teaching  of  patriotism  (first  at 
least  as  regards  the  obviousness  of  the  need)  is  to  give  all 
children  a  vivid  sense  of  country  as  physical  object,  and 
a  deep  aesthetic  appreciation  of  this  object  —  although  of 
course  this  idea  of  physical  country  cannot  be  detached 
from  everything  else.  Each  country  has  its  different  prob- 
lem. Ours  is  to  create  a  total  country,  in  the  imagination 
of  the  young.  A  German  writer  not  long  ago  predicted 
that  the  future  of  America  lay  in  the  direction  of  break- 
ing up  into  a  little  England,  a  little  Ireland,  and  a  little  of 
the  other  nationalities  here  represented.  That  particular 
danger  may  seem  remote  enough,  but  in  another  way  we  do 
continue  to  be  lacking  in  unity.  Our  patriotism  has  been  too 
local,  and  America,  even  after  the  great  war,  is  to  some 
extent  still  a  collection  of  geographical  regions.  Xew  Eng- 
land, the  South,  the  Coast  are  more  real  to  many  than  coun- 
try as  a  whole.  Our  great  distances,  and  the  impossibility 
of  clearly  imagining  them  have  necessarily  presented  ob- 
stacles thus  far  to  a  unified  image  of  country.  The  time 
may  come,  and  perhaps  soon,  when  such  a  divided  conscious- 
ness of  country  will  be  a  grave  flaw  in  our  national  life. 

It  must  be  a  serious  function  of  some  kind  of  geography 
to  give  reality  to  the  idea  of  country,  although  of  course 
we  cannot  separate  entirely  geographical  from  historical 
idea  of  country.  The  teaching  of  the  geography  of  the 
native  land  must  be  different  from  other  geography.  Na- 
tive land  must  have  a  warmth  and  home  feeling  about  it 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  217 

that  other  countries  do  not  have,  but  as  yet  the  psychological 
conditions  for  this  have  apparently  not  been  worked  out. 
With  our  present  facilities  in  pictorial  art,  the  geographical 
element  in  the  idea  of  country  seems  controllable.  The 
minds  of  children  are  exceedingly  impressionable  in  this 
direction.  Intensity  of  feeling  and  vividness  of  imagina- 
tion are  at  the  disposal  of  the  educator.  The  love  of  color, 
especially,  must  be  used  to  make  lasting  impressions  upon 
the  mind.  We  need  to  notice  also  that  the  idea  of  physical 
country  that  enters  most  into  patriotic  feeling  is  not  an 
idea  of  city  streets  but  of  the  open  country.  It  is  the  coun- 
try that  inspires  the  strongest  home  feeling,  and  it  is  the 
country  that  is  the  basis  of  the  sense  of  changelessness  and 
eternity  of  native  land,  that  is  a  strong  element  in  pa- 
triotic sentiment.  This  element  of  patriotism,  it  is  plain,  is 
something  aesthetic.  It  is  not  so  much  a  moral  loyalty 
to  country  that  is  inspired  by  the  everlasting  hills,  as  an 
aesthetic  love  of  it  as  the  home  land.  This  aesthetic  love 
of  the  home  land  is  a  response  to  such  stimuli  as  the  beau- 
tiful arouses  everywhere.  It  is  susceptible,  therefore,  to 
all  the  influences  of  art  —  of  music,  picture,  symbol;  these 
must  all  be  employed  in  teaching  patriotism.  The  theme 
of  home  is  especially  sensitive  to  the  effects  of  music. 
It  is  this  idea  of  home,  enlarged  and  enriched  by  pictorial 
representation  of  country,  deeply  impressed  and  influenced 
by  music,  and  unified  and  imbued  with  the  feeling  of  per- 
sonal possession  by  the  story  of  country  that  is  the  core  of 
patriotic  feeling.  It  is  the  function  of  art,  especially  of 
music,  to  help  to  make  the  home  feeling  of  the  child  normal 
and  enthusiastic  —  to  raise  it  above  the  stage  of  being  an 
"  anxiety  of  animal  life,"  as  Nicolai  terms  the  primitive  love 
of  home.  Art  must  help  to  remove  the  fears  and  depres- 
sions that  may  lurk  in  the  idea  of  home,  which  are  great 
obstacles  to  the  development  of  the  higher  devotions.  It 
is  the  lack  of  normal  love  of  home  in  the  city,  we  should 
sav,  that  makes  socialism  and  all  forms  of  internationalism 


21 8  The   J'sycholoi/y   of  i\aliuus 

that  breed  so  rapidly  there  such  danjrcrous  moods  in  a 
democracy.  Without  true  home  love,  we  may  conclude, 
the  wider  loyalties  can  never  be  quite  wholesome,  although 
they  may  be  intense  and  fanatical. 

The  second  element  in  patriotism  we  identify  as  the  love 
of,  or  loyalty  to,  the  sum  of  the  customs,  beliefs,  and  stand- 
ards that  make  up  the  mores  of  a  people.  A  peculiarly 
perplexing  educational  problem  arises,  since  there  are  two 
opposite  evils  to  be  avoided.  We  may  too  readily  cultivate 
a  spirit  which  either  takes  the  form  of  a  narcissistic  love  of 
one's  own  ways,  or  which,  extraverted,  so  to  speak,  becomes 
a  fanatical  ambition  to  impose  one's  own  culture  upon  the 
world:  or,  on  the  other  hand  we  might  become  too  self- 
critical,  too  cosmopolitan,  and  too  receptive  toward  all 
foreign  culture.  National  conceit,  comi)lacency  and  des- 
tinism  face  us  in  one  direction,  the  danger  of  losing  our 
identity  and  our  individuality  and  our  mission  in  the  other. 
These  problems  of  course  confront  all  nations;  they  are 
especially  urgent  in  America,  because  of  the  composite  na- 
ture of  our  national  life  and  the  rapid  changes  that  take 
place  in  it,  and  also  because  of  the  ideal  nature  of  the  bond 
that  holds  us  together.  We  are  still  a  somewhat  inchoate 
and  flowing  mass  of  social  elements,  imperfectly  coordi- 
nated, manifestly,  yet  deeply  united  by  ideals  which  appeal 
to  very  deep  emotions.  Our  work  is  to  maintain  social  soli- 
darity, preserve  and  educate  certain  fundamental  qualities 
of  our  national  life  which  are  our  real  claims  to  individuality 
as  a  people.  These  essential  trails,  perhaps  because  of  our 
ne\vness  as  a  form  of  civilization,  appear  to  be  less  clearly 
defined,  less  definitely  represented  in  institutions,  and  to  be 
more  abstract  than  the  qualities  that  make  up  the  essential 
character  of  other  peoples. 

Our  educational  problem  is,  naturally,  different  from  all 
others.  We  are  committed  to  an  idea  of  liberty.  We  make 
this  principle  of  freedom  the  dominant  in  all  our  national 
life.     We  have  not  tried,  and  cannot  consistently  attempt  to 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  219 

centralize  our  educational  institutions  very  much,  or  even 
allow  our  culture  to  become  crystallized  into  a  definite  type, 
for  this  would  be  almost  as  bad  as  denying  our  principle  of 
religious  freedom.  But  we  cannot,  in  the  other  direction, 
become  too  diversified  intellectually,  and  still  less  in  regard 
to  more  fundamental  aspects  of  life,  for  this  would  break  up 
our  unity  altogether,  or  determine  it  more  and  more  in  the 
direction  of  political  coercion.  Thus  far,  it  appears,  it  has 
been  our  great  virtue  as  a  people  that  we  have  remained 
united  by  emotional  forces,  or  by  the  suggestive  power  of 
an  idea.  Sooner  or  later  we  shall  need  to  see  whither  our 
present  tendencies  lead,  and  education  must  in  all  probability 
be  put  to  work  to  control  and  regulate  the  elements  that 
make  for  unity  and  for  disruption  in  our  life.  Our  zvork  as 
educators  will  be  to  maintain  a  working  harmony  in  the  af- 
fective and  instinctive  life  of  the  people.  We  need  now, 
and  we  shall  need  more  and  more,  religious,  moral  and 
aesthetic  unity  in  our  life  as  a  nation  —  not  a  forced  and 
superficial  agreement,  but  a  deep  harmony  of  ideals  and 
moods.  This  purpose  must  never  be  lost  sight  of  by  the 
educator.  It  must  be  made  to  pervade  all  our  educational 
philosophy  and  all  our  plans  for  the  school.  This  educa- 
tional problem  exists  of  course  everywhere  in  some  degree, 
and  in  regard  to  all  manner  of  social  groups.  But  American 
life  as  a  whole  is  peculiarly  a  growth  in  which  diverse  and 
even  divergent  elements  must  continue  to  be  brought  to- 
gether and  held  together  through  the  power  of  ideas  which 
are  subject  to  many  influences.  Diversity  and  differentia- 
tion are  added  as  fast  as  the  process  of  assimilation  can  be 
carried  on.  There  can  be  no  closing  up  of  differences  in  a 
final  perfection  and  security. 

Must  we  not,  then,  make  the  education  of  instincts  and 
feelings,  and  the  control  of  the  basic  moods,  rather  than  the 
development  and  stimulation  of  specialization  and  differen- 
tiation our  first  and  chief  concern?  Must  we  not  do  this 
even  at  a  loss  of  efficiency  in  some  directions,  if  necessary? 


2  20  Tlic  Psychology   of  Nations 

Certainly  we  must  not  go  too  fast  nor  too  far  towards  in- 
dustrialism. To  contr(jl  any  tendency  to  over  differentia- 
tion and  industrialism  that  is  now  likely  to  occur  we  must 
have  a  broad  humanitarianism  and  a  humanistic  ideal  of 
culture  (by  which  we  do  not  mean  classicism).  The  shar- 
ing of  all  experiences  that  represent  our  spirit  and  purpose 
and  American  ideas,  and  equal  opportunity  to  realize  them, 
must  he  our  thought  in  planning  our  educational  work. 
The  future  of  America  may  well  depend  upon  our  power,  or 
upon  the  power  of  our  original  idea,  to  hold  people  together 
by  the  essential  moods  in  which  our  American  ideas  are  rep- 
resented. The  production,  out  of  these  elemental  moods,  of 
common  interests  on  a  high  level  will  be.  we  take  it,  the 
only  preventive  in  the  end  of  the  growth  of  common  inter- 
ests on  a  low  level,  which  is  always  threatened  in  democ- 
racies, and  is  the  way  democracies  tend  to  destroy  them- 
selves by  their  democracy.  Education  in  the  fundamentals 
of  industrial  life,  in  social  relations,  in  play  and  in  art,  in 
religion,  is  what  we  most  need  —  the  latter,  we  may  con- 
clude, most  of  all.  We  must  have  in  some  way  a  greater 
religious  unity  and  more  religion,  not  by  attempting  an  im- 
possible amalgamation  of  creeds  as  was  promulgated  by 
some  of  the  founders  of  the  New  Japan,  but  by  an  education 
that  includes  and  brings  forth  all  that  is  common  in  religion. 
That  at  least  is  the  only  kind  of  unity  that  ofTers  hope  finally 
of  making  a  world  safe  with  democracy  in  it.  This  is  not 
a  plea  for  a  back-to-nature  movement,  for  the  simple  life, 
for  a  life  which  tends  away  from  industrialism.  Indus- 
trialism will  go  on,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  pastoral 
or  agricultural  peoples  would  soon  be  at  a  disadvantage  in 
an  industrial  world  as  it  is  organized  now,  for  want  of  rapid 
increase  in  population.  But  it  is  implied  that  industry  itself 
must  be  made  suitable  for  the  democratic  life.  It  means 
that  we  must  go  back  of  the  identities  of  language  and 
obedience  to  common  laws,   and  take  as  our  educational 


The   Teachhig  of  Patriotism  221 

foundations  that  which  American  life  is  in  truth  based  upon: 
physical  power  and  motor  freedom,  the  sense  of  liberty,  the 
colonial  spirit  of  comradeship  and  devotion  to  common 
cause,  the  ideal  of  an  abundant  and  enthusiastic  life. 
Merely  becoming  conscious  of  these  and  observing  their 
meaning  and  their  place  in  our  national  life  is  in  itself  a 
large  contribution  to  the  sources  out  of  which  patriotism 
may  be  drawn.  When  our  patriotism  is  sincere  enough  so 
that  we  shall  be  zvilling  to  sacrifice  for  country  our  religions 
intolerance  and  bigotry,  our  social  antipathies,  and  our  in- 
dustrial advantages,  we  shall  have  a  morale  which  for  peace 
or  for  war  zvill  be  wholly  siMcient. 

Must  our  ambition  be  to  teach  American  children  that 
American  ways  are  the  best,  and  that  these  ways  ought  to 
be  established  in  the  world?  There  is  both  an  evil  and  a 
good,  both  an  absurdity  and  a  sublime  loyalty  in  the  view 
which  all  nations  have,  that  their  own  culture  and  life  are 
the  best.  This  conceit  is  in  part  a  product  of  isolation,  and 
is  pure  provincialism.  But  it  is  also  of  the  very  essence  of 
the  reality  feeling  and  the  sense  of  solidarity  of  peoples  and 
of  their  loyalty  to  country.  It  must  not  be  dealt  with  too 
ruthlessly.  There  is  a  primitive  stratum  of  it  that  must 
remain  in  all  peoples.  Nations,  however  benighted,  will 
not  be  dispossessed  of  this  idea,  but  experience  and  educa- 
tion will  make  nations  more  discriminating  so  that  they 
can  at  least  see  what  is  essential  and  what  is  superficial  in 
their  own  characteristics.  Certainly  whatever  is  ethical  in 
our  foundations  we,  and  all  other  peoples,  will  be  expected 
to  hold  to.  We  feel  it  a  duty  to  spread  our  moral  truth 
abroad  and  our  mores  are  necessarily  right  for  us,  and  this 
idea  of  rightness  of  mores  must  imply  a  desire  to  make  them 
prevail  in  the  world.  We  may  recognize,  abstractly,  other 
standards  of  conduct,  but  there  is  something  in  moral  belief 
which,  of  course,  cannot  voluntarily  be  changed,  and  which 
must  stand  for  the  ultimately  real  in  consciousness  so  long 


2  22  The  Psycholuyy   of  i\  at  ions 

as  it  is  held  to  be  so  by  the  mass  of  the  people.  This  must 
extend  also  to  aesthetic  standards,  and  to  all  linal  judgments 
of  values  to  some  extent. 

For  these  reasons  we  must  suppose  that  the  spirit  of  com- 
petition among  nations,  certainly  so  far  as  it  concerns  the 
ambition  for  empires  of  the  spirit,  must  remain.  Belief  on 
the  part  of  a  people  in  the  superiority  of  their  own  culture 
cannot  and  should  not  be  eliminated.  By  this  spirit  the 
good,  we  may  be  sure,  will  prevail,  but  prevail  only  through 
opposition  and  competition.  There  can  be  no  real  compro- 
mise in  the  field  of  these  moral  possessions  and  apprecia- 
tions. IVc  must  be  Americans,  and  react  with  American 
ideas.  True  nationalists  everywhere  appear  to  recognize 
and  to  be  guided  by  this  truth.  We  cannot  voluntarily  lay 
aside  our  own  beliefs  nor  help  believing  they  are  right,  al- 
though w'e  may  see  that  were  we  dififerently  situated  we 
might  change  them. 

There  are  three  things  at  least,  as  regards  our  mores 
that  cannot  be  accomplished.  For  this  we  may  take  our  evi- 
dence and  our  warning  from  Germany.  Culture  cannot  be 
spread  by  force,  since  force  does  not  conquer  spirit.  De- 
votion to  the  basic  principles  of  one's  civilization  cannot 
rationally  nor  safely  be  extended  to  include  all  customs  and 
manners,  so  that  we  may  assume  that  there  is  a  right  way  in 
everything  which  is  ours  and  a  wrong  w^ay  which  is  foreign. 
The  mores  of  a  people  cannot  be  changed  or  manipulated 
by  education  and  propaganda  without  uprooting  the  moral 
structures  of  society.  When  we  begin  to  practice  a  Social- 
politik  we  enter  upon  dangerous  ground. 

Are  we  not,  then,  to  take  the  attitude  in  education  that 
our  culture  is  an  experimental  culture  and  represents  an  ex- 
perimental civilicationf  Although  for  us  our  ways  and 
beliefs  are  final  criteria  of  values  in  conduct,  and  we  cannot 
hope  or  wish  to  free  ourselves  from  them  or  to  be  guided  by 
objective  data,  still  we  put  them  forward  in  the  spirit  of  the 
enquirer,  rather  than  as  eternal  principles.     If  this  be  right, 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  ii^) 

we  are  not  to  guard  our  civilization  jealously,  hedge  it  about 
with  national  jealousy  and  bigotry  but  rather  send  our  cul- 
ture abroad  on  a  mission.  We  are  to  understand  and  to 
teach  the  culture  of  every  other  nation  sympathetically, 
trusting  to  our  own  foundations  to  hold  firm.  We  must  be 
so  fortified  in  our  own  virtue  that  we  shall  not  be  afraid 
to  send  our  spirit  abroad  to  compete  with  whatever  it  shall 
meet  in  the  old  world  or  the  new.  This  impulse  to  extend 
one's  culture  and  philosophy  is  a  deep  one,  and  we  believe 
it  to  be  well-grounded.  It  has  been  said  that  the  deepest 
impulse  of  British  imperialism  has  been  to  extend  English 
ways  of  thought  throughout  the  world.  There  is  truth  in 
this.  We  may  conclude  also  that  unless  a  nation  can  feel 
sincerely  that  it  is  founded  upon  something  that  ought  to 
endure  and  at  least  to  have  an  opportunity  to  become  uni- 
versal, it  lacks  a  growth  principle  and  its  civilization  is  not 
very  secure.  Certainly  it  lacks  a  great  pedagogical  advan- 
tage in  all  the  internal  work  of  education. 

The  work  of  the  intellectual  leaders  of  a  people  is  to  un- 
cover this  kernel  of  sincere  belief  and  worth,  and  strip  na- 
tionalism at  the  same  time  of  its  encrustations  of  vanity  and 
deception.  There  are,  we  may  suppose,  at  the  bottom  of 
every  nation's  consciousness  such  sincere  principles  which 
are  entitled  to  a  fair  field  in  the  competition  of  the  civiliza- 
tions and  the  cultures  of  the  world.  We  may  be  sure  that 
there  is  Americanism  that  needs  to  be  taught  both  for  the 
sake  of  the  world  and  for  our  own  sake;  something  which 
constitutes  our  best  contribution  to  an  experimental  world 
in  which  the  over-emphasis  of  all  sincere  principles  can  ulti- 
mately do  no  harm.  Americanism,  with  all  the  errors  it 
may  contain,  and  all  the  limitations  it  may  have  as  a  uni- 
versal principle  is  better  for  us  and  for  all,  we  may  believe, 
than  any  dispassionate  and  well  considered  intellectualism, 
or  a  cosmopolitanism  that  is  based  upon  a  fear  of  provincial- 
ism. Let  us  be  prepared,  therefore,  to  go  forth  not  to  con- 
quer but  to  participate  in  the  life  of  the  world. 


2  24  '^'/'''   i^sycholuyy   of  S alious 

As  regards  materials  by  means  of  which  we  are  to  teach 
a  patriotism  that  shall  be  a  strong  devotion  to  the  mores  of 
the  nation,  there  appear  to  be  three  important  elements. 
We  have,  first,  a  literature  which  contains  in  part  at  least 
the  spirit  of  our  national  life,  although  it  does  so  only  in 
part.  Secondly,  we  have  a  beginning  at  least  of  an  inter- 
pretation of  American  life  through  an  American  history 
that  is  to  be  something  more  than  a  history  of  political 
events,  and  shall  be  a  true  history  of  the  .\merican  people. 
This  history  must  include  the  history  of  our  ideas  and  our 
ideals,  our  literature,  institutions,  art,  and  be  indeed  a  true 
social  history.  This  history  must  be  the  main  source  book 
for  teaching  what  our  country  has  meant  to  those  who  have 
lived  in  it,  and  what  these  people  have  really  been  and  done. 
This  is  national  character  study.  Character  study,  a  truly 
psychological  and  interpretative  history,  should  teach  us 
what  we  are  likely  to  do  and  what  we  ought  to  do  in  all 
typical  situations  with  which  we  are  likely  to  be  confronted. 
How  far  we  are  as  yet  from  such  a  general  knowledge  in 
regard  to  ourselves  needs  hardly  to  be  suggested.  The  third 
element  in  this  aspect  of  the  teaching  of  patriotism  is  some- 
thing more  tangible  and  more  immediately  practical.  Our 
ideals  have  to  some  extent  at  least  been  crystallized  in  our 
institutions,  w^here  they  will  still  further  be  elaborated. 
The  participation  on  the  part  of  all  in  some  way  in  these 
institutions  is  a  part  of  our  required  training  for  good 
American  life.  A  book  knowledge  of  institutions  is.  of 
course,  better  than  none  at  all,  but  there  is  no  reason  why 
knowledge  should  end  there.  All  people,  especially  those 
now  being  educated,  ought  to  have  more  direct  and  more 
intimate  part  in  all  the  representative  institutions  of  our 
country,  even  in  the  political  institutions,  and  perhaps  in 
them  most  of  all.  Americanism,  whatever  else  it  may  be. 
must  be  a  practical  Americanism.  It  must  have  ideals  and 
clear  visions,  it  goes  without  saying,  but  it  is  the  making  and 
shaping  of  institutions  by  living  in  and  through  them  that 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  225 

must  be  the  main  feature  of  our  social  life  and  of  our  edu- 
cation. When  the  individual  and  the  social  form  are 
molded  and  developed  together,  patriotism  will  be  a  natural 
phase  of  mental  growth. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   TEACHING    OF    PATRIOTISM     (continued) 

Patriotism  we  thou|i^ht  to  be,  in  the  third  place,  devotion  to 
the  group.  Here  the  problem  of  the  teaching  of  patriotism 
becomes  specifically  a  question  of  social  education.  The 
question  arises  as  to  precisely  what  the  objects  of  the  devo- 
tion we  call  loyalty  to  the  group  are,  and  what  factors  in 
group-consciousness  need  most  to  be  emphasized  or  edu- 
cated as  patriotism.  Is  it  race  or  manners  or  the  pure  fact 
of  propinquity  or  herd  contact  or  all  together  that  are  the 
objects  of  social  desire  and  the  feeling  of  solidarity? 

Race  has  been  emphasized  as  the  prime  interest  in  group 
loyalty,  but  there  seems  to  be  doubt  about  this.  At  least 
there  are  difficulties  in  isolating  anything  we  can  call  love 
of  race.  We  can  never  separate  race  from  propinquity,  for 
example,  or  from  mores,  or  from  the  bonds  due  to  common 
possession  of  causes.  Race  loyalty  appears  to  be  a  primi- 
tive feeling.  When  races  were  pure,  groups  small  and  pos- 
session common,  all  the  elements  of  loyalty  to  group  were 
present  at  once  and  coextensive.  As  civilization  progressed 
the  bond  of  pure  race  lessened.  All  races  have  now  become 
mixed,  we  are  told,  and  kinship  in  a  group  has  ceased  to  be 
a  fact.  Nicolai  maintains  that  race  patriotism  has  grown 
out  of  family  instinct,  as  something  quite  separate  from 
herd  instinct,  but  it  seems  likely  that  common  interests,  or- 
ganization under  necessity,  or  the  social  attraction  resulting 
from  any  common  cause  must  have  been  stronger  than  any 
consciousness  of  kinship,  or  any  herd  instinct  as  such  — 
which  may  indeed  not  have  existed  at  all. 

It  is  this  more  conscious  bond  of  function  and  propinquity 

226 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  227 

at  least  that  must  be  taken  into  account  in  the  education  of 
patriotism  —  certainly  American  patriotism.  We  in  Amer- 
ica can  hardly  emphasize  race  patriotism,  without  producing 
internal  disruption.  It  is  common  function  that  is  the  dis- 
tinguishing mark  of  the  individuals  of  a  group,  rather  than 
common  origin.  Common  function,  especially  subsump- 
tion  under  one  ordered  government,  particularly  if  the  pur- 
pose be  that  of  securing  common  protection,  can  plainly 
overcome  all  loyalty  to  race.  Common  religion  antagonizes 
race  consciousness,  and  we  see  therefore  within  nations  races 
splitting  up  along  lines  of  religious  difference.  We  see 
within  races  also  greater  antagonism  and  greater  lack  of 
common  interest  between  classes  than  between  the  same 
classes  as  found  in  different  races.  Aristocrats  everywhere, 
for  example,  appear  to  have  greater  mutual  sympathy  and 
sense  of  nearness  than  do  the  upper  and  lower  classes  of  the 
same  race. 

One  of  our  own  urgent  educational  problems  is  that  of 
overcoming  race  differences  and  of  utilizing  racial  bonds 
for  practical  ends.  We  try  to  put  loyalty  to  group  first, 
and  we  assume  that  race  patriotism  can  be  supreme  only 
among  those  who  have  no  country  worth  being  loyal  to. 
Loyalty  to  race,  however,  has  a  pedagogical  use.  We  see 
it  being  employed  to  extend  social  feeling  beyond  the  point 
to  which  propinc|uity  and  common  cause  can  carry  it.  It 
was  used,  we  know,  in  the  propaganda  and  educational  cam- 
paign by  which  German  statesmen  and  historians  hoped  to 
develop  a  wider  German  consciousness.  The  racial  object 
in  this  case  is  apparently  purely  fictitious.  We  see  the  same 
concept  being  used  now  to  create  or  expand  social  feeling 
throughout  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  What  we  mean  mainly 
by  Anglo-Saxon  race  is  really  English  speaking  peoples, 
having  common  or  similar  mores  and  ideals.  It  is,  of 
course,  by  emphasizing  and  participating  in  common  func- 
tions that  loyalty  either  to  an  Anglo-Saxon  union  or  to  the 
total  group  in  our  own  nation  will  be  developed.     Our  own 


228  The  Psychology   of  Aalions 

type  of  patriotism,  in  which  there  can  be  httle  or  no  racial 
loyalty  as  such,  must  be  built  upon  more  ideal  and  abstract 
conceptions  than  that  of  race.  It  is  loyalty  to  group  having 
a  common  idea,  we  say,  which  must  be  the  basis  of  American 
group  loyalty.  This  we  must  regard  as  higher  than  any 
race  patriotism.  All  nations  are  now,  as  Boutroux  re- 
marks, to  a  greater  or  less  extent  psychological  races.  The 
factors  that  have  produced  them  are  the  factors  that  have 
caused  men  to  become  functioning  units. 

This  gives  us  a  clew  at  least  to  a  practical  principle  for 
the  education  of  social  loyalty.  We  must  secure  partici- 
pation on  the  part  of  the  individual  in  every  function  that 
belongs  to  each  group  to  which  the  individual  himself  is 
attached.  Thus  all  degrees  and  kinds  of  loyalty  may  be 
made  to  exist  in  the  same  mind  without  conflict  or  confu- 
sion, precisely  because  the  loyalty  desired  is  loyalty  to  people 
as  groups  or  organizations  having  causes,  not  to  collections 
of  individuals  as  such. 

The  teaching  of  loyalty  to  any  cause  appears  to  be  a  lesson 
in  patriotism.  So  far  as  teaching  of  patriotism  is  centered 
directly  upon  the  production  of  loyalty  to  the  whole  group 
which  constitutes  the  nation,  the  first  object  must  be  to 
create  a  sense  of  reality  of  the  group  in  the  mind  of  the 
individual.  We  may  expect  to  do  this  in  part  by  the  teach- 
ing of  geography  and  history  in  an  adequate  way.  but  we 
must  also  instill  such  patriotism  by  inducing  individuals  to 
participate  in  nation-wide  organizations,  which  are  capable 
of  realizing  dramatic  effects.  The  experiences  of  the  war 
have  taught  us  to  see  this.  It  is  organization  or  cooper- 
ation for  practical  ends,  under  conditions  in  which  deep 
feeling  is  aroused,  that  most  quickly  and  effectually  creates 
the  sense  of  solidarity  in  great  groups  of  individuals.  We 
must  study  the  psychological  side  of  this  matter,  and  see 
how  the  power  and  momentum  that  are  so  readily  gained 
in  time  of  need  can  be  better  controlled  for  all  the  routine 
purposes  of  education  and  the  practical  daily  life.     The  or- 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  229 

ganization  of  national  activities  by  means  of  voluntary  asso- 
ciations will  be  likely  to  be  one  of  the  main  educational 
methods  of  the  future.  If  we  are  far-seeing  we  shall  try  to 
utilize  the  powers  of  organization,  cooperation  and  com- 
munication to  overcome  many  antagonisms  now  existing  in 
society.  War  temporarily  suspends  class  distinctions  and 
many  other  forms  of  social  dualism.  The  reaction  after 
the  war  may  be  in  the  direction  of  increasing  all  the  former 
antagonisms.  To  attain  a  strong  morale  and  unity  in  times 
less  dramatic  than  those  of  war  is  an  educational  problem, 
in  a  wide  sense,  but  it  is  also  a  problem  of  the  practical 
organization  of  all  the  social  life. 

All  nation-wide  affiliations  of  children  which  in  any  way 
cross-section  classes  or  antagonistic  interests  of  any  kind 
tend  to  create  materials  out  of  which  patriotic  sentiment  is 
made.  The  school  itself  has  tended  to  produce  social  unity, 
but  it  has  also  tended  to  level  downward,  and  also  to  medi- 
ate associations  which  do  not  touch  upon  the  activities  and 
interests  and  differences  of  society.  Our  schools  are  demo- 
cratic by  default  of  social  interest  in  them,  so  to  speak. 
We  need  organizations  that  shall  level  upward  and  to  a 
greater  extent  involve  the  home.  Then  we  shall  see  how 
democratic  and  how  unified  our  social  Hfe  really  is.  These 
organizations  must  be  both  democratic  and  practical.  They 
must  engage  the  interests  of  all  classes.  We  know  little  as 
yet  about  the  potential  power,  both  for  practical  accomplish- 
ment and  for  the  building  of  a  higher  type  of  loyalty  and 
patriotism,  there  may  be  in  wide  organization.  Here  wr* 
can  best  combine  the  initiative  and  spirit  that  usually  come 
from  the  upper  classes  with  the  great  powers  of  achieving 
aggregate  results  inherent  in  the  people  as  a  whole.  If  we 
are  to  have  a  nation  which  shall  be  a  unit,  the  people  as  a 
whole  must  have  practical  interests  that  require  daily  exer- 
tion and  attention.  They  must  be  not  merely  united  in 
spirit  as  a  people,  but  united  in  common  tasks  that  are  defi- 
nite and  real.     Devotion  to  the  functions  of  the  people  is 


230  The   l\syi  holoyy    of  i\aliuus 

loyalty  to  the  nation.  Ihis  \vc  should  say  is  but  an  elabora- 
tion of  the  old  colonial  spirit  of  cooperation,  when  merely 
living  in  a  community  meant  a  certain  daily  service  to  all 
the  community.  We  nmst  continue  to  do  now  more  con- 
sciously and  with  more  technique,  so  to  speak,  what  was 
once  done  more  spontaneously  and  in  a  more  primitive  way. 
It  is  thus  that  the  idea  of  neighbor  might  extend  throughout 
the  country  as  a  whole.  All  the  materials  are  at  hand  for 
an  unlimited  development  of  the  practical  life.  The  sense 
of  solidarity  and  the  comradeship  and  helpfulness  that  grow 
naturally  in  a  small  community,  where  conditions  arc  hard 
and  dangers  ijiiniinent.  zee  must  still  maintain  in  a  great 
nation  by  organization.  This  is  at  heart  an  educational 
problem.  It  is  a  work  of  national  character  building.  It  is 
training  in  patriotism. 

In  this,  as  in  all  other  phases  of  education  now.  we  must 
consider  how  the  great  energies  hidden  in  the  aesthetic  ex- 
periences can  be  put  to  use.  The  aesthetic,  especially  in  its 
dramatic  form,  is  a  power  to  be  reckoned  with.  Interest, 
organization,  moral  obligation  do  not  control  or  release  all 
the  energies  contained  in  the  social  life.  We  need  the  high 
moods  of  dramatic  situations  to  reach  the  most  fundamen- 
tal motives.  The  teacher  must  not  only  present  ideas ;  he 
must  generate  power.  And  this  is  true  of  all  efforts  to 
employ  for  any  end  the  interests  of  the  people,  old  or  young. 
The  social  life,  if  it  is  to  be  effective,  must  constantly  be 
brought  under  the  influence  of  dramatic  stimuli.  Dillon,  a 
political  writer,  earnestly  pleads  for  an  extension  and  deep- 
ening of  the  sympathies  of  children,  and  says  that  patriotic 
sentiment  must  be  engrafted  upon  the  sensitive  soul  of  the 
child.  No  one  could  refuse  to  admit  this.  The  question, 
however,  is  of  ways  and  means.  In  our  view  it  is  mainly 
through  play,  or  better,  art.  that  the  soul  of  the  child  is  thus 
made  sensitive.  A  dramatic  social  life  must  be  the  main 
condition  upon  which  we  depend  for  thus  extending  and 
deepening  the  sympathies  of  the  child. 


The  Teaching  of  Patriotism  231 

Among  these  dramatic  social  effects  we  seek,  the  use  of 
national  holidays,  all  methods  of  symbolizing  events,  causes, 
or  functions  which  are  nationally  significant  are  of  course 
not  to  be  ignored,  but  after  all  it  is  through  practical  activity 
made  social  and  raised  to  dramatic  expression  or  feeling, 
either  by  its  own  inherent  idea  and  suggestive  power,  or  by 
the  addition  of  aesthetic  elements,  that  loyalty  to  the  greater 
group  and  its  functions  will  best  be  educated.  It  is  pre- 
cisely the  lack  of  these  dramatic  elements  and  these  mass 
effects  in  the  social  life  that  now  leaves  the  social  sense  in 
its  national  aspects  weak,  and  allows  the  various  dividing 
lines  throughout  society  to  make  even  the  most  necessary 
activities  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  ineffectual. 

The  educational  problem  itself  is  plain.  Unity  of  public 
interests,  which  can  apparently  now  be  obtained  only  under 
threat  to  national  existence,  must  be  maintained,  not  arti- 
ficially, but  voluntarily.  We  want  the  morale  of  war  and 
the  social  solidarity  of  war  in  the  times  and  activities  of 
peace  —  in  those  activities  that  represent  service  to  country 
and  also  those  which  consist  of  the  service  of  country  in  the 
performance  of  its  broader  functions  as  a  member  of  a 
family  or  society  of  nations. 

A  fourth  factor  in  patriotism  we  recognize  as  loyalty 
to  government,  to  state,  or  to  leader.  The  place  of  such 
loyalty  in  a  truly  democratic  country  as  contrasted  with  an 
autocratically  governed  country  seems  plain.  It  is  not  only 
sovereignty  but  statesmanship  as  well  that  must  reside  in 
the  people.  The  people  must  not  only  have  the  power  but 
the  wisdom  to  rule.  Even  the  ideals  of  the  country  must 
come  out  of  the  common  life,  or  there  at  least  be  abundantly 
nourished.  The  German  writers  protest  that  the  purely 
native  ideals  of  the  people  do  not  represent  the  meaning 
and  purpose  of  the  State.  The  natural  feelings  of  the  peo- 
ple lack  purpose  and  definiteness.  The  State  is  something 
very  different  from  the  sum  of  the  people  and  the  repre- 
sentation of  their  will.     The  native  sense  of  solidarity  is  not 


232  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

at  all  like  the  or{Tani/.atif)n  that  comes  throup;h  the  State. 
But  this  abstract  conception  of  the  State  as  a  being  different 
from  the  people  is  precisely,  in  the  view  of  such  writers  as 
Dickinson,  the  cause  of  wars.  Upon  this  point  Dickinson 
sees  now  a  wide  parting  of  the  ways.  We  must  have 
either  one  kind  of  world  or  the  other.  We  must  continue 
our  warlike  habits,  and  make  the  God-siate  the  object  of  our 
religion,  or  abandon  all  this  for  a  thorough-going  democ- 
racy. It  is  the  special  interest  that  is  assumed  to  inhere 
in  the  God-state  that  is  the  menace  to  peace  everywhere. 
The  abstract  theory  of  State  inspires  far-seeing  policies, 
democracy  lives  more  by  its  natural  instincts  and  feelings. 
The  theo%  of  necessary  expansion,  the  right  to  grow  and 
to  intruder  is  a  natural  deduction  from  the  conception  of 
the  God-state ;  loyalty  to  the  State  demands  ever  increasing 
lands  and  population  in  order  to  have  more  military  power. 
The  democracy,  of  course,  can  harbor  no  such  conception 
of  State.  Loyalty,  in  the  democracy,  must  be  to  state  and 
to  statesmen  rather  as  leaders  of  the  people.  The  first  and 
most  necessary  factor  in  patriotism  as  loyalty  to  authority 
is  that  authority  must  represent  interests  of  country  and 
people  and  must  for  that  reason  deserve  loyalty.  Educa- 
tionally, the  problem  is  quite  the  reverse  of  the  educational 
problem  of  the  autocracy.  The  people  are  not  to  be  trained 
in  obedience  and  subservience  to  the  state,  but  we  have 
mainly  to  create  in  the  minds  of  all  people  the  capacity  to 
recognize  true  leaders.  It  is  not  loyalty  to  authority  as 
such,  we  say,  that  is  wanted,  but  loyalty  to  leader  who  has 
no  power  at  all  except  the  power  of  the  good  and  its  force- 
ful presentation.  A  democracy  is  a  society  in  which  the 
aristocrats  rule  by  persuasion,  although  we  must  think  of 
this  aristocracy  as  an  aristocracy  of  intellect  and  morality 
rather  than  of  birth  and  wealth.  The  ideal,  we  suppose, 
toward  which  our  definition  of  democracy  leads  is  a  state 
in  which  authority  as  represented  in  the  institutions  of  gov- 
ernment, and  leadership  represented  in  natural  superiority 


€* 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  233 

coincide.  It  is  a  State  in  which  the  good  and  the  great 
shall  govern.  But  in  general,  parliaments  cannot  now  be 
the  sources  of  moral  and  intellectual  leadership  of  the  peo- 
ple. They  are  subjected  to  too  many  conflicting  interests. 
The  time  may  come,  we  say,  when  authority  and  superiority 
will  coincide,  when  laws  will  be  made  and  executed  by  those 
who  ought  to  do  these  things  rather  than  by  those  who 
merely  have  the  power  to  gain  opportunity  to  do  so.  At 
any  time  and  place  we  may,  of  course,  behold  great  leader- 
ship combined  with  great  authority.  A  true  democracy  is 
a  state  in  which  such  coincidence  will  be  inevitable. 

The  minds  of  men  are  now  full  of  these  themes.  They 
ask  how  nations  may  become  unified  without  injustice  and 
autocracy.  Trotter  says  that  national  unity  is  what  is 
wanted  most  of  all  things  now  in  England.  England  must 
become  conscious  of  itself,  he  says,  and  infuse  into  public 
affairs  a  spirit  that  will  carry  leaders  far  beyond  their  own 
personal  interests.  England  has  survived  until  now  in 
spite  of  a  strong  handicap  of  discord.  He  speaks  of  the 
imperfect  morale  of  England,  shown  in  the  war,  which  arose 
from  the  preceding  social  discord,  and  shows  that  the  only 
perfect  morale  is  that  which  is  based  upon  social  unity  in 
the  nation.  All  this  is  true  also  of  ourselves.  We  also 
have  our  problem  of  creating  loyalty  to  government  and  a 
national  unity  upon  which  a  perfect  morale  both  for  peace 
and  for  war  may  be  assured,  by  inspiring  an  ideal  of  honor, 
honesty,  and  efficiency  in  all  public  service,  and  also  by 
arousing  an  intense  interest  in  public  service  and  deep  ap- 
preciation of  what  public  service  and  leadership  mean,  on 
the  part  of  all  the  people.  This  is  plainly  not  merely  a 
work  of  cleaning  politics.  It  is  a  work  of  public  education. 
The  attitude  of  a  people  toward  authority  and  leadership  is 
something  more  than  a  susceptibility  to  leadership  and  in- 
fluence. There  is  a  desire  for  the  experience  of  ecstatic 
social  moods,  the  craving  to  be  active  and  to  be  led.  We 
make  a  great  mistake  if  we  think  all  that  democracy  means 


234  '^'/''^'  PsycJiology   of  Isalions 

is  an  instinct  of  individual  indci)cndence,  a  desire  to  take 
part  in  the  government  as  an  indi\'idual.  It  is  also  a  social 
craving  that  is  involved.  The  presence  of  the  great  leader, 
even  in  times  of  peace,  stimulates  social  feeling,  and  raises 
it  to  a  productive  level.  This  social  feeling,  we  say,  is  not 
a  mere  reaction.  It  is  the  expression  of  a  desire  and  readi- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  people  to  participate  in  social  activi- 
ties, and  to  attach  themselves  to  worthy  leaders,  or  to  those 
now  who  appeal  to  the  most  dominant  selective  faculties. 

It  is  precisely  at  this  point  that  the  educational  problem 
comes  into  view.  We  are  likely  to  think  of  the  public  edu- 
cation required  in  a  democracy  as  too  exclusively  political 
education,  education  that  will  enable  the  individual  to  assert 
himself  —  to  know,  to  criticize,  to  vote,  to  take  an  active 
part  in  politics.  This  spirit  is  especially  prominent  in  Eng- 
lish life.  It  is  all  very  good  in  itself  and  necessary.  But 
we  need  to  educate  ourselves  also  so  that  ivc  may  have  a 
capacity  to  be  led,  in  the  right  direction.  To  increase  sensi- 
tiveness to  leadership,  but  also  to  make  that  sensitiveness 
.selective  of  true  values,  is  one  of  the  great  educational  prob- 
lems of  a  democracy. 

It  seems  to  be  a  part  of  the  work  of  education  to  create 
popular  heroes,  to  do  upon  a  higher  level  what  the  public 
press  does  in  its  own  way,  but  mainly  partisanly  and  too 
often  from  wholly  unworthy  motives  —  make  reputations. 
We  must  do  more  in  the  teaching  of  history  and  biography 
than  to  glorify  the  lives  of  dead  heroes.  We  need  to  be 
quite  as  much  concerned  about  coming  heroes.  We  must 
excite  the  imagination  of  the  young  and  prejudice  the  public 
mind  through  educational  channels,  in  favor  of  sincere  and 
true  leaders.  The  opportunity  of  the  story  teller  is  large, 
in  this  work,  and  we  need  also  to  develop  to  a  very  high 
degree  of  excellence  the  educational  newspaper.  One  of 
our  great  needs  in  education  in  this  country  is  a  daily  news- 
paper for  all  schools  —  one  that  shall  be  both  informing 
and  influential,  appealing  by  every  art  to  the  selective  facul- 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  235 

ties,  governed  absolutely  by  ethical,  or  at  least  not  by  politi- 
cal and  partisan  motives.  The  power  of  such  a  press  might 
be  very  great  indeed.  As  an  unifying  influence  and  a  ready 
means  of  communication,  and  an  instrument  of  use  in  the 
organization  of  all  children,  the  function  of  this  press  would 
be  a  highly  important  one. 

All  means  of  creating  political  ideals  from  within,  of 
forging  the  links  between  leader  and  people  in  the  plastic 
minds  of  children  and  youths,  will  be  an  education  in  one  of 
the  fundamental  elements  of  patriotism.  Such  an  educa- 
tion would  be  very  different,  however,  from  the  state 
planned  and  authorized  education  that  has  been  carried  on 
under  autocratic  regimes.  The  difference  is  one  of  spirit 
and  result,  rather  than  of  method.  In  one  case  the  State 
becomes  a  kind  of  Nirvana,  in  the  thought  of  which  per- 
sonality and  individuality  are  negated.  Patriotism  pro- 
duced in  the  minds  of  the  young  under  the  influence  of  a 
democratic  spirit  tends  to  become  a  creative  force  rather 
than  a  blind  devotion  to  an  accepted  order.  Institutions  are 
made  and  advanced  rather  than  merely  obeyed  and  defended 
in  this  educational  process.  The  widest  scope  and  the 
freest  opportunity  are  allowed  for  superior  qualities  of 
leaders  and  for  right  principles  to  have  an  effect  upon  so- 
ciety (and  the  result  we  invite  indeed  is  a  profound  hero 
worship  on  the  part  of  the  young),  but  the  conditions  would 
be  such  that  no  other  kind  of  authority  would  be  able  to 
exert  a  wide  influence.  To  secure  these  conditions  is,  of 
course,  one  of  the  chief  tasks  of  all  the  administrative 
branches  of  our  educational  service. 

The  final  factor  of  patriotism,  according  to  our  analysis, 
is  loyalty  to  country  as  an  historical  object.  The  ideas  and 
the  feelings  centering  about  the  conception  of  country  as 
personal,  as  living,  as  having  rights  and  experience,  duties 
and  individuality  are  likely  to  be  vivid  and  intense.  They 
are  the  inspirers  of  supreme  devotion  to  country,  and  also 
at  times,  of  morbid  national  pride  and  fanatical  country- 


236  Tlic   Psycholoyy   of  iXations 

worship.  The  education  of  this  idea  of  country  we  should 
suppose  would  be  one  of  the  fundamental  problems  of  the 
development  of  patriotism.  Presumably  we  are  not  to  try 
to  destroy  this  idea  of  country  that  all  people  seem  to  have, 
or  to  show  it  as  one  of  the  illusions  of  personification. 
Country  is,  of  course,  difTerent  from  the  mere  sum  of  the 
people.  It  has  continuity  and  it  performs  functions  and 
it  is  an  historic  entity.  Modernize  and  reform  this  idea,  we 
must,  but  we  cannot  do  away  with  it  as  something  archaic 
and  superstitious.  Country  is  real,  the  concepts  of  honor 
and  right  belong  to  it,  and  country  is  something  to  which 
the  mind  must  do  homage. 

Boutroux  says  that  a  nation  is  a  person,  and  has  a  right 
to  live  and  to  have  its  personality  recognized  as  its  own. 
Granting  this  to  be  true,  and  that  we  must  think  of  country 
as  personal  and  active,  the  question  arises  whether  this  con- 
cept of  country  is  something  that  requires  in  any  definite 
way  educational  interference.  We  should  say  that  if  coun- 
tries are  essentially  living  historic  entities  having  as  such 
a  high  degree  of  reality,  this  reality-sense  will  be  an  im- 
portant element  in  the  practical  life  of  peoples.  There  can 
be  no  thought  in  our  historical  era  of  breaking  up  these 
entities  we  call  nations.  It  is  a  day  of  intensified  rather 
than  of  diminished  nationalism.  The  sense  of  reality  of 
nations  must,  we  might  think,  be  made  more  intense ;  pride 
of  country  must  remain;  we  may  find  some  place  even  for 
the  jdea  of  the  divine  nature  of  country,  which  is  an  ele- 
ment in  the  patriotic  spirit  everywhere.  That  this  concep- 
tion of  country  is  a  very  necessary  element  in  the  morale 
of  a  country  in  war  seems  clear ;  that  the  morale  of  peace 
must  be  founded  upon  the  same  personal  and  religious  senti- 
ments we  can  hardly  doubt. 

Ambition  for  country  is  a  normal  result  of  the  acceptance 
of  the  idea  of  country  as  personal,  and  ambition  for  country 
appears  to  be  the  very  essence  of  any  patriotic  sentiment 
that  is  sincere.     Still  ambition  for  country  has  been,  in  some 


The   Teacliing  of  Patriotism  237 

of  its  forms,  a  cause  of  wars.  What  other  conclusion  can 
we  come  to,  then,  than  that  ambition  for  country 
must  be  subjected  to  radical  educational  influences?  This 
is  the  reverse  side  of  political  progress.  Ambition  must 
be  given  new  content  and  new  direction.  All  the  power 
and  the  sentiment  of  the  old  imperialistic  motive  must  re- 
main, but  all  peoples  must  now  be  educated  to  see  that  the 
maintenance  of  its  position  in  the  world  on  the  part  of  any 
nation  is  now  a  far  more  difficult  and  far  more  complex 
task  than  ever  before.  The  building  of  empire  must  be 
shown  to  have  been  far  easier  and  far  less  heroic,  and  much 
less  a  test  of  the  superiority  of  a  nation  than  we  have  sup- 
posed. We  can  show  that  military  virtues  are  much  more 
nearly  universal  than  has  often  been  assumed,  and  that 
nations  that  are  inherently  superior  must  abandon  volun- 
tarily their  ambitions  of  aggression,  if  they  wish  to  remain 
superior  and  to  have  a  place  of  honor  in  the  world. 

This  implies  no  teaching  of  pure  internationalism.  We 
still  recognize  as  fundamental  the  whole  spirit  of  national- 
ism. Country  must  remain  first  after  all.  All  must  indeed 
learn  to  take  in  some  way  the  statesman's  point  of  view  in 
regard  to  country  —  with  its  sense  of  the  future,  of  wide 
relations  and  long  periods  of  time,  and  its  practical  vision. 
It  is  futile  to  think  of  this  future  as  one  wholly  without 
struggle  and  competition.  We  must  teach  history  also  far 
more  with  the  forward  view.  History  has  dealt  too  ex- 
clusively even  in  America  with  the  past.  National  ambi- 
tion that  has  as  its  aim  to  realize,  with  independence  and 
power,  all  the  good  that  an  enlightened  nation  contains,  but 
at  the  same  time  to  act  with  justice  and  with  the  thought  of 
the  nation  as  a  part  of  a  coordinated  world  must  take  this 
point  of  view. 

It  is  a  median  course  between  merely  naive  and  day  by 
day  living,  such  as  Lehmann  (15)  complains  about  as  the 
natural  tendency  of  uneducated  patriotism,  and  the  kind  of 
program  making  that  takes  into  account  only  the  purposes 


238  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

of  a  single  nation  that  we  must  follow  in  teaching  this  for- 
ward view  of  national  history.  There  is  a  danger  in  either 
extreme.  We  may  remain  a  nature  people,  without  a  true 
historic  sense,  and  be  conscious  only  of  a  dramatic  past 
which  appeals  to  sentiment  and  a  still  more  ambiguously 
glorious  future ;  or,  on  the  other  hand  we  may  become  too 
definitely  ambitious  and  too  conscious  of  some  special  mis- 
sion in  the  world.  A  nation  with  a  program,  a  nation  that 
does  not  recognize  the  experimental  nature  of  history,  is  a 
dangerous  element  in  the  society  of  nations,  even  though  its 
ambitions  be  not  purely  selfish.  Excessive  rationalism  in 
national  consciousness  is  itself  a  menace.  We  must  live  by 
our  historic  sense,  by  some  ideal  of  a  future  for  our  nation ; 
the  people  must  have  some  vision  of  a  glorious  future,  and 
not  be  expected  to  see  only  an  unending  vista  of  problems 
and  labors,  but  this  history  must  be  understood  and  taught 
intimately  and  appreciatively  and  not  merely  objectively  and 
logically.  We  must  take  an  interest  in  the  careers  of  all  na- 
tions, and  understand  history  psychologically  and  be  willing 
to  judge  it  ethically.  So  far  we  have  had  the  opposite 
view  in  most  of  our  teaching  and  writing  of  history.  We 
mpst  take  a  fair  and  tolerant  view  of  the  power  motive  that 
exists  in  all  nations,  and  try  to  understand  what  it  means  to 
be  of  another  nationality  and  to  have  ambitions  like  our 
own.  Without  such  an  attitude,  we  should  argue,  no  one 
can  be  truly  patriotic,  if  patriotism  means  having  at  heart 
the  true  interests  of  one's  own  country. 

It  is  not  only  possible  and  fair,  therefore,  but  necessary 
that  patriotism  be  enlightened.  It  is  possible  to  be  devoted 
each  one  first  of  all  to  his  own  country,  to  have  few  illusions 
about  its  values,  and  at  the  same  time  to  have  tolerance  for 
all  other  nations.  What  other  spirit  is  there,  in  fact,  in 
which  our  history  can  now^  be  taught?  It  seems  absurd  to 
say  that  such  a  spirit  is  weak.  It  implies  consciousness  of 
strength,  of  being  able  to  hold  one's  own  in  a  fair  field,  to 
have  the  dignity  and  sense  of  maturity  that  come  from  con- 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  239 

tact  with  a  real  world.  With  such  a  spirit  it  would  not  be 
necessary  to  accept  as  inevitable  the  brutality  of  all  national 
development,  to  use  the  words  of  Mach,  a  recent  writer. 
We  need  no  longer  believe  that  war  is  the  only  thing  that 
can  prevent  national  disintegration,  as  many  maintain.  Na- 
tional consciousness  certainly  makes  progress  even  without 
such  dramatic  and  tragic  events  as  have  recently  taken 
place.  Boutroux  says  that  in  France,  after  the  Dreyfus 
affair,  although  strong  nationalistic  feeling  was  stirred, 
there  was  also  a  new  vision  of  the  destiny  of  the  French 
people  as  not  only  defenders  of  their  own  country  but  as 
champions  of  the  rights  of  all  nationalities.  German  writ- 
ers have  not  failed  to  notice  this,  and  have  been  inclined 
to  regard  this  spirit  of  France  as  a  sign  of  degeneration 
and  decay  of  the  national  life.  We  see  now  that  generosity 
and  justice  are  far  from  being  evidences  of  weakness,  and 
also  that  in  the  larger  logic  of  history  these  weaknesses 
generate  strength;  at  least  they  bring  powerful  friends  in 
time  of  need. 

Once  Germany  herself  was  affected  by  such  ideals  of 
history.  In  the  time  of  Goethe,  Cramb  reminds  us,  man- 
kind, culture  and  humanity  were  the  great  words.  But 
upon  this  love  of  humanity  and  culture  and  love  of  the 
homeland  a  political  spirit  was  engrafted,  and  this  new  spirit 
of  Germany  has  manifestly  now  led  to  her  downfall.  No! 
there  is  no  threat  to  national  existence  and  no  disloyalty 
to  country  in  the  form  of  internationalism  that  now  is  be- 
fore us.  As  social  consciousness  widens  and  social  rela- 
tions become  more  intricate  and  more  practical,  national 
lines  are  not  lost,  but  indeed  become  clearer.  These  na- 
tional boundaries  are  not  temporary  or  artificial  or  imag- 
inary lines,  for  they  represent  and  define  activities  and  inter- 
ests that  engage  the  most  fundamental  and  the  most  per- 
sistent of  human  motives. 

It  is  in  this  spirit  that  loyalty  to  country  as  historic 
object  should,  we  believe,  be  taught.     This  idea  we  teach 


240  ilif   Piycholuyy   of  Naliotis 

of  course  through  history,  in  part,  but  history  alone  in  any 
ordinary  sense,  as  we  might  think  of  it  as  a  subject  in  the 
curricuUim  of  a  school,  is  not  enough.  These  ideas  must 
be  made  persuasive  and  dynamic.  For  this  as  we  see  over 
and  over  again,  art  is  the  true  method.  The  object  to  be 
presented  and  which  must  inspire  devotion  is  an  ideal  object. 
It  is  complex  and  it  performs  practical  functions,  but  it  is 
through  and  through  such  an  object  as  appeals  most  deeply 
to  the  aesthetic  feelings.  The  image  of  this  object  must 
be  made  impressive.  Since  the  ideal  of  our  country  is  more 
abstract  than  that  of  most  countries,  as  an  object  still  less 
vivid  and  less  personal,  since  it  lacks  some  of  the  means  of 
appeal  to  the  feelings  that  imperialistic  countries  have,  there 
is  all  the  more  need  of  art  to  make  the  figure  of  ideal  coun- 
try stand  out  sharply  before  us.  As  we  pass  beyond  the 
patriotism  which  is  only  a  love  of  home,  or  a  devotion  to 
a  political  unit,  to  a  patriotism  that  is  a  loyalty  to  a  more 
abstract  and  more  intangible  idea,  the  art  by  which  the 
idea  of  country  is  conveyed  would,  we  should  suppose,  also 
become  more  abstract.  Hocking  says  that  it  is  through 
symbols  that  the  mind  best  gropes  its  way  to  the  realization 
of  ideas.  Feeling  and  imagery,  we  know,  are  very  sus- 
ceptible to  the  influences  of  the  symbol,  and  also  to  the 
phrase  which  is  a  lower  order  of  symbol.  Dramatic  repre- 
sentation, all  pageantry,  pictorial  art,  music,  even  the  art 
of  the  poster  artist  and  the  cartoonist  have  a  place  in  the 
work  of  portraying  country  as  an  ideal  object,  and  inspiring 
devotion  to  it  and  its  causes.  A  far-seeking  educational 
policy  will  scorn  none  of  these  in  its  effort  to  crystallize  the 
concept  of  country  and  give  it  power  and  reality. 

Finallv  this  idea  of  country  must  be  put  to  work  in  every 
mind  and  in  every  life.  Otherwise  all  education  of  patriot- 
ism will  tend  toward  inevitable  jingoism,  and  arouse  all  the 
violent  and  introverted  feelings  that  have  made  history  a 
long  story  of  wars  without  end.  This  idea  of  country  has 
been  too  aristocratic.     It  must  now  become  accustomed  to 


The   Teaching  of  Patriotism  241 

a  life  of  daily  toil,  and  not  merely  expend  itself  in  enthusi- 
asm and  in  self-sacrifice  in  crises  such  as  war.  Country  as 
an  idol  of  the  aristocratic  patriotism  has  always  been  too  far 
removed  from  practical  affairs.  This  patriotism  has  been 
too  personal  and  too  exclusive.  Glory,  honor  and  fame 
have  played  too  large  a  part  in  it.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
common  idea  of  country  needs  to  be  made  more  vivid  and 
more  glorious.  This  spirit  is  accustomed  to  toil  but  not  to 
have  enthusiasm.  It  certainly  needs  more  of  art  in  its  pa- 
triotism as  well  as  in  its  daily  life.  We  all  need  his- 
torical perspective.  We  must  have  through  education  what 
tradition  has  failed  to  give  us.  It  is  just  by  lacking  the 
patriotism  that  a  vivid  sense  of  country  as  historic  personage 
gives,  by  lacking  imagination  and  the  ability  to  detach 
themselves  from  the  reality  and  the  surroundings  of  the 
daily  life  that  the  working  classes  are  so  likely  to  be  af- 
fected by  influences  that  tend  to  break  down  all  patriotism. 
We  shall  have  a  true  patriotism,  we  should  say,  only  when 
country  is  an  idea  that  is  worked  for  by  all  classes ;  when  it 
is  an  idea  that  is  woven  into  the  daily  lives  of  the  people ; 
when  it  makes  the  daily  toil  lighter  and  touches  it  with 
glory,  and  when  it  enters  into  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  more 
favored  classes  and  inspires  it  with  the  spirit  of  daily 
service. 


CHAPTER  VII 

POLITICAL    EDUCATION    IN    A    DEMOCRACY 

One  of  the  results  of  the  war  has  been  to  raise  in  the 
minds  of  all  peoples,  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  the  most 
earnest  questions  about  the  nature  and  validity  of  govern- 
ment. The  political  sense  of  all  peoples  has  been  stimulated. 
We  see  on  every  hand  new  conceptions  of  government  and 
demands  for  more  and  better  government,  but  also  the  most 
radical  criticism  and  the  denial  of  all  government.  The 
determination  in  very  fundamental  ways  of  what  govern- 
ment is,  and  must  be,  what  ideas  must  prevail,  w'hat  must 
be  suppressed,  what  an  ideal  government  is,  if  such  an 
ideal  can  be  formed,  the  question  of  evils  inherent  in  the 
idea  of  government  itself  (if  such  evils  there  be),  the  laws 
of  development  of  government  in  all  their  practical  aspects 
—  all  these  questions  now  come  up  for  examination,  and 
will  not  be  repressed.  If  we  do  not  take  them  at  one 
level  we  must  upon  another.  Xa'ively  or  scientifically, 
philosophically  or  radically,  the  nature  of  government  must 
be  dealt  with. 

Government  is  now  being  examined,  we  all  see,  from 
points  of  view  not  hitherto  taken.  The  conscientious  ob- 
jector raises  the  question  of  the  ultimate  basis  of  the  right 
of  the  many  to  control  the  lives  of  individuals,  and  he  asks 
especially  whether  there  is  any  ground  for  the  assumption 
that  in  this  sphere,  more  than  in  any  other,  might  makes 
right.  Conscription,  in  fact,  has  driven  us  to  consider  the 
meaning  of  liberty  and  the  foundations  upon  which  the 
right  to  it  rests.     This  stern  fact  of  conscription,  the  real- 

242 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  243 

ization  that  in  a  moment  the  most  democratic  governments 
in  the  world  are  capable  of  bringing  to  bear,  quite  consti- 
tutionally, absolute  control  over  the  most  basic  possessions 
of  the  individual,  has  led  many  to  ask  seriously  whether 
government  is  after  all  a  good  in  itself,  or  is  merely  a  neces- 
sity having  many  attendant  evils.  They  wish  to  know 
whether  there  is  in  the  principle  of  government  something 
that  takes  precedence  over  all  the  assumed  rights  of  the  in- 
dividual. Does  government,  they  inquire,  have  a  rigJit  to 
the  individual ;  or  is  it  only  in  serving  the  individual  that  it 
is  entitled  to  exercise  authority  that  limits  the  individual  ? 

These  are  questions,  manifestly,  that  involve  the  whole 
foundation  of  sociology,  but  we  need  not  be  unduly  dis- 
mayed at  that.  This  is  a  time  when  naive  thinking  and 
exact  science  must  make  compromises  with  one  another. 
For  better  or  for  worse  we  must  find  some  working  hypo- 
thesis upon  which  a  fair  adjustment  may  be  made  in  the 
practical  life  of  the  present'  moment.  This  working  hy- 
pothesis must  also  serve  —  and  perhaps  that  is  after  all  its 
main  function  —  as  something  to  guide  us,  something  hav- 
ing solidity  upon  which  w^e  can  stand,  in  performing  our 
work  as  educators. 

What  we  need,  what  we  believe  all  feel  now  the  need 
of,  is  a  conception  of  government  satisfying  to  the  multi- 
tude of  common  people.  We  wish  to  know  whether  we  live 
for  the  state,  we  say,  or  whether  the  state  lives  for  us. 
We  wish  to  understand  what  the  basic  rights  and  duties  of 
the  individual  are.  As  average  individuals,  willing  to  give 
service  in  any  cause  that  seems  good,  we  do  not  ask  so 
much  to  have  determined  for  us  precisely  what  type  of 
government  best  satisfies  the  requirements  of  science  or 
philosophy,  but  what  the  best  working  basis  for  harmonious 
adjustment  in  the  social  life  of  the  future  is  to  be.  These 
enquiring  moods  on  the  part  of  the  people  are  a  part  of  the 
temperament  that  has  issued  from  the  war.  We  shall  make 
a  mistake  if  we  regard  it  as  a  mere  passing  efifect,  however; 


244  ^  /'^'  l^sycholugy   of  Nations 

it  }>ieans  a  deep  stirring  of  the  political  consciousness  of 
people  throughout  the  world. 

Significant  differences  may  be  observed  in  the  general  at- 
titude toward  government  among  the  people  in  the  great 
nations  of  the  world.  Each  nation  appears  to  have  its  own 
political  temperament,  and  this  quite  apart  from  the  views 
represented  especially  by  political  parties  and  the  like, 
and  quite  independently  of  the  scientific  and  philosophical 
conceptions  of  government  and  its  functions  of  which  there 
are  a  great  number,  and  among  them  certainly  no  agreement 
upon  the  main  issues  and  values. 

Taking  public  opinion  as  a  whole,  Germany,  England, 
France  and  America  seem  to  represent  distinctly  different 
attitudes  toward  government.  The  State  in  the  German 
philosophy  of  life,  as  every  one  is  now  aware,  is  all;  the 
individual  derives  his  reality  and  his  value,  so  to  speak, 
from  the  idea  of  the  supreme  state.  Individuality  and 
freedom  in  this  philosophy  of  life  do  not  refer  to  political 
individuality  and  freedom  at  all.  In  England,  and  per- 
haps to  some  extent  in  all  democratic  countries,  the  pre- 
vailing thought  seems  to  be  that  the  government  that  gov- 
erns the  least  is,  on  the  whole,  the  best  government.  The 
English  government  is  supposed  to  be  the  servant  of  the 
people,  and  the  individual  has  been  in  the  habit  of  looking  to 
the  government  for  many  services.  The  individual,  free 
and  self-determined,  is  the  unit  of  value  and  of  society,  and 
the  regulation  of  his  conduct  by  government  is  at  best  a 
necessary  evil.  It  came  as  a  surprise  to  the  Englishman 
when  he  realized  that  the  state  could  command  the  most  per- 
sonal service  and  the  most  complete  surrender  of  the  prop- 
erty rights  of  the  individual. 

Le  Bon  says  that  the  Frenchman,  too.  thinks  of  the 
state  as  something  to  be  kept  at  a  minimum  and  to  a 
certain  extent  to  be  opposed.  Opposition  to  the  govern- 
ment is  a  part  of  the  Frenchman's  plan  of  life.  Boutroux 
says  the  same  —  that  in  France  the  habit  of  thinking  of 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  245 

the  government  and  of  society  as  two  rivals  has  not  been 
overcome. 

Our  own  idea  of  government  is  certainly  somewhat 
different  from  these.  We  are  watchful  of  individual  right, 
but  we  do  not  tend  to  think  of  government  either  as  op- 
ponent or  as  servant.  We  do  not  ask  the  government  to 
take  care  of  us  as  individuals,  and  we  do  not  feel  in  the 
public  attitude  the  resistance  to  government  that  the  French 
writers  observe  in  France.  The  American  expects  on  the 
whole  to  look  out  for  his  own  interests  and  he  has  never 
felt  the  pressure  and  over-powering  force  of  government 
—  until  perhaps  now.  Mabie  says  that  the  American  has 
conceived  of  his  government  as  existing  to  keep  the  house 
in  order  while  the  family  lived  its  life  freely,  every  in- 
dividual following  the  bent  of  his  own  genius. 

These  temperamental  attitudes  toward  government,  we 
said,  seem  quite  apart  from  scientific  and  philosophic  con- 
ceptions of  state.  We  see,  however,  something  of  the 
temperament  reflected  in  the  philosophies.  Philosophers  do 
not  wholly  detach  themselves  from  the  mores  of  their  race. 
The  monarchy  of  Germany,  Munsterberg  says,  appeals  to 
the  moral  personality  and  the  ccsthetic  imagination.  Its 
main  function,  however,  is  to  safeguard  the  German  people. 
Its  faults  are  the  faults  of  its  virtues.  Other  German 
writers  praise  the  German  government  especially  for  its 
efficiency,  for  its  incomparable  body  of  officials  —  indeed 
for  its  very  clock-work  perfection  that  Bergson  hates  in 
Prussian  life.  Lehmann  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  the 
German  state  had  reached  the  perfect  balance  between  in- 
dividualism and  communism.  These  writers  see  plenty  of 
self-realization  in  German  society,  and  quite  enough  of 
participation,  on  the  part  of  the  individual,  in  the  govern- 
ment. Schmoller  (51)  denies  that  Germany  ever  lacked  the 
spirit  of  free  institutions,  and  even  compares  Germany  with 
ancient  Attica,  which  he  thinks  was  great  not  because  of 
the  rule  of  the  demos,  but  because  the  people  followed  their 


246  The  Psycliology   of  iXalions 

aristocratic  leaders.  Troeltsch  tries  to  show  that  the  Ger- 
man idea  of  freedom  is  different  from,  and  indeed  superior 
to,  that  of  all  other  peoples.  The  French,  he  says,  rest 
their  idea  of  freedom  upon  the  doctrine  of  the  equality 
of  all  citizens,  but  in  reality  lawyers  and  plutocrats  prevail. 
The  English  idea  of  freedom  comes  from  Puritanic  ideas; 
the  individual's  independence  of  the  state  is  based  upon 
the  idea  of  natural  rights,  and  upon  the  theory  of  the 
creation  of  the  state  by  the  individual.  But  German  free- 
dom is  something  entirely  different.  Here  freedom  is  in 
education,  and  in  the  spiritual  content  of  individuality. 
German  freedom  is  the  freedom  that  comes  from  the  spon- 
taneous recognition  of  rights  and  duties.  Parliaments  are 
good  in  their  place,  but  after  all  they  are  not  the  essence 
of  freedom. 

Totally  different  conceptions  of  state  are  easily  found. 
Consider,  for  example,  the  views  of  Russell.  Through 
every  page  of  his  book  there  shines  the  determined  belief 
in  the  inalienable  rights  of  the  individual.  Self-expres- 
sion of  the  individual  through  creative  activity  is  the  basic 
value,  or  at  least  the  fundamental  means  of  realizing  values. 
Russell  sees  nothing  sacred  or  final  in  any  form  of  exist- 
ing government.  He  would  like  to  see  government  ex- 
panded in  some  directions  and  contracted  in  others,  for 
the  functions  of  government  cannot  all  be  vested  in  one 
body  or  organization.  For  defense  the  nation  is  not  large 
enough.  For  all  civic  government  the  nation  is  too  large. 
In  its  internal  control  it  treats  the  individual  too  ruth- 
lessly. Wasteful  and  in  large  part  even  unnecessary,  it 
antagonizes  the  free  development  of  the  individual.  Gov- 
ernment should  cease  its  oppression,  it  should  no  longer 
support  unnatural  property  rights,  or  interfere  with  the 
personal  affairs  of  individuals.  At  the  present  time,  how- 
ever, we  should  not  expect  a  radical  cure  for  all  the  evils 
of  government.     If  only  we  can  find  the  right  direction  in 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  247 

which  to  make  advance,  we  should  be  satisfied  with  some- 
thing less  perfect  than  an  ideal. 

The  state  in  Russell's  view,  instead  of  being  an  ideal 
institution,  is  even  harmful  in  many  ways  and  terribly  de- 
structive. It  promotes  war.  It  makes  the  individual  help- 
less, and  crushes  him  with  a  sense  of  his  unimportance. 
It  abets  the  injustice  of  capitalism.  It  excludes  citizens 
from  any  participation  in  foreign  affairs.  We  must  indeed 
not  let  this  incubus  of  state  overwhelm  us.  We  must  keep 
it  in  its  proper  place,  even  in  performing  its  necessary 
functions,  such  as  preserving  public  health.  It  is  better 
to  take  some  risk,  even  in  such  matters,  than  to  override 
too  much  the  individual's  personal  rights.  All  the  functions 
of  the  state  must  be  made  to  center  more  about  the  welfare 
of  the  individual,  and  in  doing  this  the  state  must  plainly 
regard  as  fundamental  the  right  of  the  individual  to  free 
growth  and  the  development  of  all  his  powers.  We  must 
learn  to  think  more  in  terms  of  individual  welfare  and  less 
in  terms  of  national  pride. 

In  syndicalism  in  some  form  Russell  sees  the  most  prom- 
ise for  reform  of  government.  Some  type  of  govern- 
ment at  least  which  does  not  make  the  geographical  unit  the 
basis  of  everything  must  be  the  government  of  the  future. 
This  would  lead  in  the  end  to  a  higher  state  than  that  based 
primarily  upon  law,  for  it  would  be  a  government  in  which 
free  organization  would  be  the  first  principle. 

Plainly  we  are  to-day  in  a  time  of  flux  in  which  ideas  and 
institutions  are  unsettled,  and  there  is  a  great  variety  of 
political  theories  of  all  kinds.  We  can  hope  to  find  no 
agreement  among  theorists  and  certainly  no  common  ground 
for  the  reconciliation  of  conflicting  parties.  Still,  even 
for  the  most  practical  daily  life  we  must  find  some  guiding 
principles.  We  must  look  for  some  means  of  bringing 
order  out  of  the  present  diversity  and  conflict.  Some 
valuation  of  government,  some  idea  of  the  ultimate  purpose 


248  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

of  government  ought  to  be  agreed  upon,  if  for  no  other 
reason  that  we  may  have  some  principle  which  will  give 
us  continuity  in  our  educational  work. 

Consider  the  varieties  of  political  creed  now  offered 
us,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  both  of  the  difficulty  and 
the  necessity  of  finding  guiding  principles  for  the  practical 
life  and  to  preserve  sanity  of  mind.  The  monarchical 
idea  still  lingers;  there  is  a  variety  of  conceptions  of  democ- 
racy, differing  widely ;  there  are  socialists  —  state  social- 
ists, Marxian  socialists  of  the  old  line,  Bolshevists,  re- 
gionalists,  syndicalists,  and  others  —  and  anarchists  of  pure 
blood.  Of  internal  and  party  differences,  policies,  and 
plans  there  is  no  end.  Through  all  these  we  have  to  thread 
our  way,  and  reach  what  conclusions  we  can. 

No  American  can  of  course  be  expected  to  see  the  ques- 
tion of  government  otherwise  than  through  American  eyes. 
He  is  to  some  extent  prejudiced  and  bound  to  the  ideas  of 
liberty,  individualism,  and  democracy,  w^hatever  his  variety 
of  party  politics  be.  Democracy  he  may  regard  as  an  as- 
sumption, but  it  will  seem  now  even  more  than  ever  a  neces- 
sary assumption  upon  which  to  build  a  working  con- 
ception of  government. 

We  have  to  look  somewhere  in  actual  life  for  the  ele- 
ments and  principles  of  government.  Why  should  we  not 
look  for  them  in  American  life,  where  government  has 
grown  up  comparatively  free  from  traditions  and  preju- 
dices and  where  it  has  been  by  all  the  ordinary  tests  suc- 
cessful? There  has  been  something  both  ideal  and  generic 
in  American  life.  W^hatever  personal  equation  may  be  in- 
volved in  saying  this,  the  point  of  view  has  some  objective 
justification.  It  is  a  genetic  method,  at  least.  In  early 
American  life  society  was  simple,  and  life  was  earnest,  and 
we  see  government  and  the  individual  in  their  essential 
relations  to  one  another. 

In  this  primitive  and  yet  modern  society  we  see  the  in- 
dividual as  a  collection  of  functions,  so  to  speak,  existing 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  249 

in  a  group.  The  individual  also  has  various  desires,  which 
do  not  appear  to  be  wholly  in  agreement  with  his  social 
functions.  Some  of  these  desires  of  individuals  are 
strongly  antagonistic  to  society.  In  this  society,  govern- 
ment is  plainly  the  means  of  protecting  the  individual  or  the 
group,  by  the  suggestion  or  the  exertion  of  lawful  force, 
from  the  threat  of  lawless  force.  Law  is  a  means  of  en- 
abling and  also  compelling  the  individual  to  perform  the 
various  functions  which  belong  to  him  as  an  individual 
or  as  a  member  of  the  group.  To  some  extent  the  law 
also  aids  the  individual  in  performing  his  functions.  But 
this  simple  social  order  already  shows  certain  basic  dis- 
harmonies. It  is  an  experimental  regulation  of  the  individ- 
ual. Every  restriction  the  individual  helps  to  put  upon 
other  individuals  by  participating  in  or  acquiescing  in  the 
establishment  of  government  and  law  reacts  to  limit  his 
own  freedom,  in  ways  which  he  cannot  wholly  predict. 
Freedom  of  the  individual,  even  in  the  simplest  social 
order,  becomes  greatly  limited,  if  not  necessarily,  at  least 
naturally  —  and  indeed  necessarily,  since  the  only  choice 
appears  to  be  between  lawful  and  lawless  limitation  of 
freedom.  From  the  beginning,  therefore,  there  can  be  no 
perfect  satisfaction  of  individual  desires  or  of  either  gen- 
eral or  individual  needs,  in  the  ordered  social  life.  So- 
ciety as  a  whole  regulates  the  conduct  of  the  individual  both 
by  aiding  and  by  inhibiting  his  activities,  and  must  do  so. 
In  doing  this,  it  is  plain,  it  promotes  all  or  most  of  the  func- 
tions of  the  individual.  Ordered  society  widens  the  total 
sphere  of  action  of  the  individual.  The  individual  left  to 
himself  tends  to  become  an  end-in-himself.  Law  makes 
him  to  a  greater  extent  a  means.  In  doing  this  it  serves 
him  and  it  also  uses  him,  and  there  can  never  be  any 
guarantee,  in  any  individual  case,  of  what  the  sum  of 
these  services  and  restraints  shall  be.  Society  uses  the 
individual  in  part,  but  not  exclusively,  in  his  own  service. 
The  good  and  the  evil,  the  necessity  and  the  dilemma  of 


250  77/6'  PsycJiology   of  iSations 

all  government  are  outgrowths  of  this  primitive  service 
of  the  social  organizaticMi  and  this  original  disharmony 
among  the  wills  of  individuals  and  the  will  of  the  group 
to  serve  the  individual  and  also  at  the  same  time  certain 
general  purposes  which  may  not  in  any  given  case  co- 
incide with  either  the  desire  or  the  need  of  the  individual. 
For  this  reason  we  conclude  that  there  can  be  no  perfect 
government.  All  government  is  experimental  and  exists  by 
compromise. 

What,  then,  in  the  most  general  way,  can  we  say  is  the 
legitimate  function  or  purpose  of  government?  Hocking 
says  that  government  is  the  means  of  assuring  the  individ- 
ual that  his  achievements  will  be  permanent.  To  this  end 
it  puts  order  into  the  structure  of  society.  In  our  view 
something  similar,  but  not  identical  with  this,  is  true. 
We  can  say  that  in  its  complex  forms  it  is  in  principle 
only  what  we  found  it  to  be  in  its  primitive  or  simple  forms. 
Government  is  ideally  a  means  of  aiding  all  the  functions 
of  every  individual.  Functions,  let  us  observe  and  not 
primarily  desires  are  served.  These  functions  are  such 
functions  as  the  individual  has  as  a  member  of  every 
group  to  which  he  naturally  belongs.  Government,  then, 
so  to  speak,  has  no  standing  of  its  own.  Its  proper  func- 
tion is  to  facilitate  all  other  functions.  Neither  individ- 
uals nor  governments  have  any  rights  as  abstracted  from 
the  sum  of  functions  which  the)'  essentially  are. 

If  this  be  true,  we  can  certainly  define  no  one  best 
and  eternal  type  of  government,  any  more  than  a  fixed 
and  perfect  plan  of  life  for  an  individual  can  be  defined. 
Government  might  be  supposed  properly  to  change  ac- 
cording to  the  functions  w'hich  from  time  to  time  were 
most  important  for  the  society  in  question.  Social  life, 
under  government,  differs  from  a  free  and  unorganized  so- 
cial life  mainly  in  that  a  certain  objectivity  is  acquired 
in  regard  to  the  functions  of  the  individual.  The  individ- 
ual  becomes  a  creature  of    functions   rather  than  of   de- 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  251 

sires  and  needs.  Common  interests,  or  the  interests  of 
the  group  are  served,  we  say ;  in  doing  this  the  individual 
is  made  to  serve  his  own  interests,  perhaps,  but  the  most 
outstanding  fact  is  that  in  this  organized  life  the  immediate 
desires  of  the  individual  are  likely  to  be  thwarted.  Regu- 
larity is  put  into  conduct,  and  conduct  is  made  to  serve 
multiple  and  distant  ends.  The  functions  of  the  individ- 
ual, left  to  the  desire  of  the  individual,  will  seldom  be 
harmoniously  performed.  They  will  lack  precisely  ob- 
jective consideration.  But  in  the  organized  social  life 
there  will  also  be  no  perfect  order  and  harmony,  no  final 
balance  of  functions.  Everything  is  still  relative  and  ex- 
perimental. Government  is  a  system  in  which  any  one 
individual  at  any  moment  may  gain  or  may  lose.  But 
on  the  whole,  under  the  good  government,  both  more  free- 
dom for  the  individual  and  better  conditions  and  better 
life  for  the  individual  will  presumably  be  obtained  than 
in  any  possible  disordered  or  unorganized  society.  But 
government  will  really  add  nothing  that  does  not  already 
belong  to  the  functions  that  naturally  develop  in  any  social 
group. 

The  actual  functions  of  governments  are,  therefore, 
highly  complex,  because  it  is  in  some  way  involved  in  all  the 
functions  of  the  individuals  themselves.  Governments  will 
be  judged  good  or  bad  in  two  particulars:  according  to  the 
completeness  with  which  they  include  all  the  social  func- 
tions, and  as  regards  their  efficiency  in  facilitating  these 
functions.  We  must  not  make  the  mistake  of  judging  a 
government  merely  by  its  form.  Under  the  same  constitu- 
tion and  holding  the  same  ideals,  there  is  room  for  widely 
different  forms  of  activity  on  the  part  of  the  government, 
and  great  differences  in  efficiency  and  in  the  functions 
performed.  The  same  functions  may  be  performed  and 
the  same  degree  of  efficiency  reached  apparently  with  differ- 
ent organizations.  Cleveland  shows,  for  example,  how  our 
own  government  might   become  much  more  efficient   and 


252  The  rsycliulu^y   of  j\  at  ions 

make  radical  changes  in  the  mechanism  of  the  legislative  and 
executive  functions  without  sacrificing  any  principle  we 
hold  to,  and  perhaps  without  any  change  in  our  constitu- 
tion. 

It  is  this  idea  of  the  proper  functions  of  government 
and  the  relative  adequacy  of  existing  governments  to  per- 
form them  that  seems  to  be  deeply  questioned.  Life  has 
suddenly  grown  more  complex.  The  individual  is  brought 
face  to  face  with  new  demands  upon  him.  He  becomes,  it 
may  be,  a  member  of  new  groups,  having  new  functions. 
Government  also,  and  correspondingly,  expands.  The  ques- 
tion is  not  now  of  the  efficiency  of  government  in  doing 
what  it  has  hitherto  undertaken;  we  wish  to  feel  sure 
that  government  is  adequate  to  meet  the  requirements  of 
a  rapidly  changing  social  order.  That  just  now  is  in- 
deed a  very  vital  question.  Governments,  we  say,  may 
be  obliged  to  adapt  themselves  to  entirely  new  tasks.  So- 
ciety assumes  new  external  relations,  and  therefore  we 
should  expect  that  new  organs  would  be  needed  for  per- 
forming these  new  functions. 

In  all  this  we  have  been  making  objective  valuations  of 
government.  An  ideal  or  a  definition  of  government  in 
terms  of  its  functions  and  the  degree  of  efficiency  in  the 
performance  of  them  might  still,  we  ought  to  observe, 
leave  a  wide  scope  for  preference  in  regard  to  forms,  and 
other  subjective  valuations.  Even  between  artistocratic  and 
democratic  forms,  there  may  be  still  room  for  valid  ap- 
preciations on  aesthetic  or  moral  grounds.  Our  objective 
valuations  of  government  must  in  fact  in  various  ways 
impinge  upon  fundamental  questions  in  which  no  purely 
scientific  considerations  will  be  wholly  decisive. 

We  can  certainly  find  no  precise  way  of  valuing  in 
detail  or  in  their  totality  existing  or  proposed  forms  of 
government.  Our  most  valid  method,  however,  appears 
to  be  to  refer  at  every  step  the  functions  of  government 
back  to  the  functions  of  the  individuals  who  make  up  so- 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  253 

ciety.  Every  phase  of  legitimate  government  must  thus 
go  back  to  the  individual,  and  his  desires  and  functions. 
If  we  do  this  we  shall  see  again  why  in  national  life  we 
have  the  same  kind  of  experimental  problem  that  we  have 
in  the  life  of  the  individual.  There  can  be  no  perfect 
adjustment  among  the  acts  of  an  individual,  and  no  final 
valuation  of  them.  There  is  no  perfect  balance  between 
present  use  and  future  good,  between  individual  and  so- 
cial values,  between  desires  or  needs  and  functions.  The 
reason  for  this,  we  say,  is  that  life  is  so  complicated  and 
made  up  of  so  many  functions  and  of  so  many  conflicting  de- 
sires that  it  cannot  be  conducted  according  to  any  single 
principle  or  combination  of  principles.  If  we  think  of 
government  as  only  a  phase  of  the  widest  social  living, 
and  so  as  being  through  and  through  of  the  nature  of  the 
life  of  the  individual,  we  ought  to  have  the  right  point  of 
view  for  all  practical  consideration  of  it.  We  must  not  ex- 
pect consistency  or  perfection  in  government,  and  we  can 
have  no  hope  of  passing  absolute  and  final  judgments  upon 
it.  Radical  politics,  in  our  present  situation,  must  be  re- 
garded as  one  of  our  greatest  dangers. 

Democracy  has  become  the  "  great  idea  of  the  age." 
It  is  our  own  fundamental  principle,  so  we  of  all  people 
ought  to  be  able  to  understand  and  to  defend  it  —  and  to 
define  it.  Yet  many  writers  complain  and  more  imply  that 
the  idea  of  democracy  has  never  been  very  clear,  and  per- 
haps not  even  very  sincere.  Sumner  says  that  democracy  is 
one  of  the  many  words  of  ambiguous  meaning  that  have 
played  such  a  large  part  in  politics.  Democracy,  he  says,  is 
not  used  as  a  parallel  word  to  aristocracy,  theocracy,  autoc- 
racy, and  the  like,  but  is  invoked  as  a  power  from  some 
outside  origin  which  brings  into  human  affairs  a  peculiar  in- 
spiration and  an  energy  of  its  own. 

Democracy  has  apparently  meant  quite  different  things 
to  different  people.  To  some  it  is  essentially  a  form  of  gov- 
ernment in  which  control  is  represented  as  in  the  hands 


254  ^'/'<^'   P-^ychology   of  Nations 

of  the  majority  of  the  people.  Some  seem  to  have  no  fur- 
ther interest  in  democracy,  if  only  they  see  that  the  demo- 
cratic form  in  government  is  preserved  and  jealously 
guarded  and  the  majority  by  its  ballot  rules.  To  some  it 
is  the  aspect  of  democracy  as  individualism  that  has  ap- 
pealed most — freedom  of  the  individual  even  from  the 
restraint  of  law  and  custom  —  or  again  equality  of  op- 
portunity. These  perhaps  think  of  freedom  as  a  supreme 
value  in  itself.  Some  think  of  democracy  more  in  terms 
of  its  internal  conditions  or  its  results.  They  think  of 
freedom  as  a  means  of  accomplishing  good,  not  as  merely 
being  a  good.  They  believe  that  the  good  of  the  individual 
is  not  necessarily  represented  by  the  satisfaction  of  his 
desires,  and  so  perhaps  think  of  the  law  and  order  of  the 
democratic  community,  the  control  and  regulation  of  the 
individual  in  his  daily  life  by  the  will  of  all,  as  the  es- 
sential feature  of  a  democracy. 

Here  in  America,  taking  our  history  and  our  life  as 
a  whole,  it  seems  certain  that  the  dominating  mood  has 
been  the  love  of  individual  freedom.  Our  democracy  is 
founded  upon  the  idea  of  the  rights  of  the  man.  But  these 
rights  and  privileges  of  the  man  can  be  secured  only  by  so- 
cial organization  that  immediately  takes  away  some  of  them. 
So  our  national  life,  just  because  of  the  strong  individualism 
with  which  it  began,  also  began  with  a  firm  principle  of  law 
and  order  modifying  the  idea  of  freedom.  Some  would 
say  it  began  thus  in  a  paradox  or  a  delusion.  Even  to  be 
morally  free  was  not  allowed.  The  group,  in  the  Puritan 
society  at  least,  exercised  strict  supervision  over  the  moral 
life  of  the  individual.  Giddings  says,  in  fact,  that  this 
experiment  in  moral  control  on  the  part  of  the  people  over 
all  individuals  is  one  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  Amer- 
ican life. 

Our  history  is  the  story  of  an  experiment  in  freedom, 
in  which  according  to  some  we  have  more  and  more  sup- 
pressed  the   individual.     Grabo   says   that   the   history   of 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  255 

democracy  here  is  the  story  of  a  dream  rather  than  an  ac- 
complishment. Such  views,  however,  do  not  appear  to 
be  true  representations  of  the  case.  They  assume  that  the 
independence  of  the  individual  is  more  real  or  more  realiz- 
able than  it  can  be  in  any  society.  Is  it  not  rather  true  that 
our  apparent  relinquishment  of  the  idea  of  freedom  is  the 
reverse  side,  so  to  speak,  of  the  persistence  throughout  our 
history  of  an  impossible  ideal  of  independence  of  the  in- 
dividual^ It  is  individualism,  rather  than  control,  that  has 
increased.  The  original  freedom  was  a  freedom  such  as 
comes  from  the  willing  participation  of  the  individual  in  an 
order  in  which  the  control  was  immediate  and  vested  in  the 
whole.  Control  has  become  more  definite  and  precise  as 
the  individual  has  become  further  removed  from  the  direct 
influence  of  the  social  environment.  We  have  developed 
relatively  too  much  our  original  idea  of  independence,  and 
from  time  to  time  elements  have  been  added  to  our  national 
life  that  represent  an  ideal  of  radical  individualism,  as  for 
example  Jacksonian  democracy.  Willingness  to  participate 
freely  in  the  functions  of  society,  and  desire  on  the  part 
of  the  individual  to  perform  all  his  functions,  have  been 
relatively  too  slight.  Even  in  politics  it  is  not  so  much 
by  the  desire  to  participate  in  government  that  we  have 
shown  our  democratic  spirit  as  by  the  desire  not  to  be  in- 
dividually governed.  The  old  colonial  spirit  of  coopera- 
tion and  neighborliness  with  which  we  started  has  been 
(speaking  relatively  again)  neglected.  We  have  developed 
toward  individualism  and  control  rather  than  toward  free 
association  under  leadership.  We  have  lacked  ability  as 
individuals  to  see  ourselves  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
whole  of  society.  Now,  therefore,  we  are  faced  by  the 
apparent  still  further  decline  of  our  principle  of  freedom, 
because  we  see  that  we  may  have  efficiency  only  by  increasing 
authority. 

The  question  may  fairly  be  asked  whether  we  are  not 
at  a  parting  of  the  ways,  when  our  democratic  idea  must 


256  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

be  more  clearly  defined,  and  we  must  decide  whether  we 
shall  change  toward  autocracy;  or  now,  at  the  end  of  our 
stage  of  primitive  democracy,  enter  upon  a  plane  of  higher 
democracy.  Sumner  says  that  always  in  a  democracy  it 
is  a  question  what  class  shall  rule,  that  the  control  in  a 
democracy  always  tends  to  remain  either  in  the  hands  of 
the  upper  class  or  the  lower  class,  and  that  the  great  middle 
class,  the  seat  of  vast  powers,  is  never  organized  to  rule. 
Such  conditions  show,  again,  the  effects  of  the  individualism 
that  prevails  —  national  unity  and  the  capacity  for  free 
organization  without  individual  or  special  motives  are 
wanting. 

Cramb  has  stated  a  fundamental  truth,  from  our  point  of 
view,  in  saying  that  hitherto  democracy  has  been  more  in- 
terested in  its  rights  than  in  its  duties.  It  is  very  true  that 
the  subjective  state  of  freedom  has  been  the  real  attraction 
and  appeal  in  our  social  life.  It  has  brought  to  our  shores 
vast  numbers  of  people  who  would  otherwise  never  have 
crossed  the  seas.  Perhaps  it  has  brought  us  too  many,  and 
those  with  too  keen  a  love  of  freedom.  At  any  rate,  the 
question  is  now  whether  as  a  people  we  shall  be  able  to 
take  a  more  advanced  view  of  the  individual,  a  more 
functional  view,  so  to  speak,  a  new  and  enlarged  concep- 
tion of  the  meaning  and  place  of  the  individual  man  in  so- 
ciety. Democracy,  in  a  word,  must  henceforth,  certainly 
if  it  is  to  be  a  world  state  or  order  and  not  a  condition  of 
world-wide  anarchy,  go  beyond  the  negative  idea  of  free- 
dom, justice  and  equality,  to  a  more  positive  idea  of  service, 
in  which  we  think  of  individuals  as  having  more  complex, 
more  free  and  more  internal  relations  among  themselves. 

In  this  idea  of  democracy,  freedom  is  seen  to  mean  first 
of  all  freedom  to  perform  all  the  functions  which  belong 
to  an  individual  as  a  part  of  a  highly  organized  society. 
It  does  not  include,  however,  freedom  not  to  perform  these 
functions.  It  is  freedom  to  lead  a  normal  life,  in  a  word, 
not  freedom  to  lead  an  abnormal  life.     Whether,  in  this 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  257 

democracy,  the  performance  of  these  functions  will  be  more 
or  less  under  compulsion,  whether  the  individual  will  vol- 
untarily surrender  certain  rights  assumed  to  be  inherent 
in  the  principle  of  freedom,  or  whether  these  rights  will  be 
taken  away  by  the  show  of  force  on  the  part  of  authority, 
seems  to  depend  now  mainly  upon  two  things:  whether  in 
this  society  superior  leadership  will  have  an  opportunity 
and  be  strong  enough  to  exert  deep  influence  upon  the 
people;  and  whether,  in  general,  such  an  educational  pro- 
gram can  be  carried  on  as  will  make  men  susceptible  to 
such  leadership,  capable  of  judging  its  values  and  able 
also  to  organize  freely  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  pur- 
pose and  functions  of  the  social  life.  In  such  a  democratic 
society  as  this,  it  is  plain,  the  evils  of  individualism  and 
also  the  evils  of  control  will  tend  to  disappear.  Perfect 
identity  of  individual  and  social  will  we  should  not  ex- 
pect to  be  attained  anywhere. 

The  evils  of  our  present  democratic  society  —  the  in- 
dividualism, party  politics  and  class  rule  —  appear  in  sharp 
relief  when  we  compare  existing  institutions  and  the  pres- 
ent spirit  with  what  is  required  in  a  true  democracy.  The 
old  idea  that  the  will  of  the  majority  must  prevail  is  seen 
to  be  inadequate,  if  we  mean  by  will  of  the  majority  the 
average  or  the  sum  of  the  desires  and  opinions  of  the  ma- 
jority. These  do  not  necessarily  represent  the  good,  and 
indeed  under  existing  conditions,  they  cannot.  We  want 
the  will  of  the  superior  man  to  prevail,  but  to  prevail  not  by 
force,  but  by  the  power  of  influence.  The  politicians  talk 
about  the  soundness  of  the  instincts  of  the  people  Some- 
thing more  than  instinct  is  wanted  in  a  democracy.  In- 
stincts are  not  progressive.  Individualism,  the  pleasure 
of  the  moment,  and  mediocrity  are  represented  too  much  by 
instincts  and  in  every  expression  of  the  mere  will  of  the 
majority.  People  in  the  mass  are  governed  too  much  by 
impulse.  Conduct  and  purpose  are  too  discontinuous  and 
fragmentary;  or  perhaps  we  had  better  say  that  the  stimuli 


258  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

of  the  moment  are  too  likely  to  control  conduct.  Whereas 
social  life  under  the  influence  of  the  hij^hest  type  f)f  leader- 
ship is  governed  by  more  complex  states  of  conscitjusness, 
by  moods,  which  are  more  original  and  creative,  and  in 
which  desires  and  impulses  are  no  longer  the  controlling 
factors  in  conduct. 

This  view  of  democracy  shows  that  democracy  is  some- 
thing still  to  come.  It  is  not  an  achieved  social  order  or 
a  well-founded  doctrine  that  must  merely  be  exploited  and 
spread  abroad  over  the  world.  Democracy  is  experimental 
civilization.  We  do  not  know  whether  it  represents  the 
ultimate  good  in  government  and  society  or  not,  and 
whether  it  is  destined  to  continue  and  to  prevail.  That 
will  depend,  we  suppose,  upon  what  we  make  it.  We 
have  our  evidences  of  history,  but  after  all  democracy  is 
still  based  upon  assumptions.  It  is  an  experimental  order, 
we  say,  in  which  we  try  to  realize  many  desires  and  to 
harmonize  many  functions.  The  final  justification  of 
democracy  must  be  in  the  far  future.  It  must  be  judged 
then  by  its  fruits,  rather  than  by  rationally  testing  the 
validity  of  its  principle.  Thus  far  it  is  a  working  hy- 
pothesis. 

The  precise  form  which  government  in  a  democracy  ought 
to  take  is,  from  our  present  point  of  view,  of  secondary- 
importance.  Democracy  is  a  spirit,  an  idea,  a  social  qual- 
ity, first  of  all.  A  monarchial  government,  though  it  might 
be  otherwise  out  of  date,  might  be  entirely  democratic  in 
spirit;  and  republics,  we  know,  may  be  anything  but  demo- 
cratic. Where  control  is  in  the  hands  of  the  people  and 
not  of  a  class,  but  of  the  people  subject  to  the  best  leader- 
ship —  a  leadership  that  is  based  upon  influence  rather 
than  upon  any  excess  of  authority  or  show  of  force,  there 
is  democracy,  and  of  this,  of  course,  the  ballot  itself  is  by 
no  means  the  only  test.  But  where  thus  far  shall  we  find 
any  democratic  society  that  is  so  sound  that  it  can  offer 
itself  as  a  model  to  the  rest  of  the  world? 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  259 

Most  of  the  political  questions  of  the  day  appear  to 
be  relative  and  conditioned  questions.  The  question  of 
governmental  control  of  industry  is  an  example.  This 
seems  to  be  a  question  of  expediency,  and  to  be  conditional 
upon  local  needs  and  the  status  of  particular  governments. 
It  is  certainly  no  fundamental  question  of  the  social  order. 
Those  who  make  socialism  a  supreme  and  universal  prin- 
ciple also  appear  to  be  too  radical.  Sellars  says  that  so- 
cialism is  a  democratic  movement,  the  purpose  of  which 
is  to  secure  an  economic  organization  of  society  that  will 
give  a  maximum  of  justice,  liberty  and  efficiency.  Drake, 
in  "  Democracy  Made  Safe,"  says  that  socialism  implies 
equality  everywhere;  more  than  that,  it  means  social,  politi- 
cal, economic  and  legal  equality  throughout  the  earth.  One 
cannot  but  feel  that  these  enthusiastic  writers  are  making 
the  mistake  of  undertaking  to  do  by  political  mutation,  so 
to  speak,  that  which  can  be  accomplished,  we  may  suppose, 
only  by  a  slow  process  of  experimentation  in  government, 
and  the  still  slower  but  more  certain  method  of  education, 
in  which  all  people  are  trained  in  fundamental  social  rela- 
tions. Radical  and  venturesome  change  in  so  great  and 
complex  an  organism  as  a  great  nation  is  now  danger- 
ous, because  only  a  part  of  the  conditions  can  be  taken 
into  account,  and  the  result,  therefore,  must  be  conjec- 
tural. 

Radical  socialism  that  threatens  to  throw  political  power 
into  the  hands  of  a  political  class,  or  of  any  social  or 
economic  class,  bolshevism  which  Dillon  (speaking  of  Rus- 
sia especially)  says  is  doomed  to  failure  because  of  its 
sheer  economic  impossibility,  any  plan  which  tends  to  con- 
centrate authority  in  any  class  is  threatening  to  our  future. 
The  democratic  spirit  must  hold  fast  against  the  rising 
tide  from  the  lower  classes,  just  as  it  has  been  obliged 
to  contend  against  autocracy.  Democracy  has  on  one  side 
to  assimilate  aristocracy,  and  not  overturn  it.  So  it  re- 
sists the  rise  of  the  proletariat,  not  to  turn  this  force  back, 


26o  The   Psychology   of  Nations 

even  if  this  were  possible,  but  to  control  it.  It  is  precisely 
because  of  the  deep  movement  of  the  people  —  the  world 
revelation  and  the  world  revolution,  as  Weyl  calls  it  — 
that  we  must  make  all  political  institutions  flexible  and  ad- 
justible,  and  also  throw  into  the  balance  all  the  powers 
of  education  and  thus  save  democracy  from  itself. 

These  dangers  to  democracy  are  not  to  be  taken  too 
lightly.  Democracy  indeed  faces  two  dangers.  Hobson 
in  "Democracy  After  the  War"  has  stated  one  of  them. 
He  says  that  the  war  will  result  in  no  easy  victory  for 
democracy,  for  the  system  of  caste  and  bureaucracy  is  very 
likely  to  become  fixed.  Democracy  therefore  must  be 
worked  for,  and  to  that  end  there  must  be  a  union  of  all 
types  of  reformers.  We  must  play  off  the  special  inter- 
ests against  one  another,  says  Hobson,  work  for  industrial 
democracy,  educate  the  people.  On  the  other  hand  there 
is  that  danger  from  the  rising  of  the  masses  which  Weyl 
heralds.  This  war  underneath  and  after  the  war  is  as 
Weyl  sees  it,  the  war  of  the  poor  and  exploited  against 
all  the  exploiters.  These  elements  are  at  heart  antagonistic 
to  government.  Democracy,  if  all  this  be  true,  is  neither 
well  defined  as  an  idea  nor  well  established  in  the  world. 
An  unjust  and  privileged  class  above  and  an  unwise  and 
uneducated  class  beneath  threaten  it.  But  the  case  seems 
by  no  means  hopeless.  Indeed  the  remedies  and  the  way 
of  escape  seem  in  a  general  way  plain.  Political  changes 
on  one  side  and  political  education  on  the  other  must  be- 
come, we  should  suppose,  the  order  of  the  day. 

Of  the  actual  political  changes  impending  and  those 
that  ought  to  be  advocated  this  is  not  the  place  to  speak, 
except  to  say  that  they  must  by  their  nature  be  tentative 
and  experimental.  The  radical  mind  is  to-day  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  elements  in  society,  just  because  all  the 
world  over  men  are  very  ready  to  be  influenced  and  are 
eager  for  change  and  are  uncritical.  Cleveland  in  an  essay 
entitled  Can  Democracy  be  Efficient?  exhibits  a  type  of 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  261 

thinking  about  political  questions  that  ought  to  appeal  to 
all  practical  thinkers.  It  is  his  method  rather  than,  in  this 
connection,  his  conclusions  that  one  should  notice.  Cleve- 
land would  study  all  countries  with  reference  to  the  effi- 
ciency of  their  governments  in  fulfilling  what  seem  to  him 
to  be  the  proper  and  essential  functions  of  a  government, 
working  under  our  present  conditions.  Germany,  France, 
England  and  America,  he  observes,  have  all  adopted  dif- 
ferent ways  of  conducting  the  work  of  government.  These 
essentials  of  government  he  reduces  to  five :  i )  Strong 
executive  leadership;  2)  a  well  disciplined  line  organiza- 
tion; 3)  a  highly  specialized  staff  organization;  4)  ade- 
quate facilities  for  inquiry,  criticism,  and  publicity  by  a 
responsible  personnel  independent  of  the  executive;  5) 
means  of  effective  control  in  the  hands  of  the  people  and 
their  representatives.  Of  these  principles,  Germany  used 
only  the  first  three,  England  left  out  the  second  and  the 
third,  France  used  all  (but  was  late  in  seeing  the  need), 
America  has  left  out  all  of  them. 

This  is  the  type  of  thought,  we  suggest,  that  seems  best 
adapted  to  meet  present  requirements  for  a  practical  theory 
of  government.  Analysis  of  the  functions  of  government, 
critical  examination  of  the  needs  of  the  present  time,  and 
a  plan  of  modifying  what  already  exists,  rather  than  of 
making  revolutionary  changes,  seem  to  be  the  right  direc- 
tion of  progress. 

If  the  source  of  power  in  the  future  is  to  be  vested 
in  the  people,  the  education  of  the  people  with  reference 
to  their  function  as  rulers  will  naturally  be  one  of  the  most 
vital  and  permanent  of  the  requirements  of  the  social 
life.  Dickinson  says  that  the  time  has  gone  by  for  en- 
trusting the  destinies  of  nations  to  the  wisdom  of  experts. 
If  this  be  true,  and  popular  opinion  is  to  supersede  the 
wisdom  of  the  experts,  if  the  people  are  really  to  have 
power,  and  be  competent  critics  of  good  government,  or 
merely  to  become  good  material  in  the  hands  of  construe- 


262  The   Psyc/iulu(/y   uf  Nations 

live  statesmanship,  education  must  include  or  be  essentially 
political  cdiicatiun.  The  people  must  be  educated  jur 
democracy,  but  also  made  competent  to  create  democ- 
racy. 

Of  course  everything  we  do  in  the  school,  the  inten- 
tion of  the  school  to  represent  what  is  best  in  civiliza- 
tion, and  to  be  a  center  in  which  creative  forces  come  to- 
gether has  some  reference  to  education  for  the  democratic 
Hfe,  but  there  are  also  more  definite  and  more  specifically 
political  things  to  be  taught.  And  yet,  if  what  we  have 
said  before  has  any  truth  in  it,  it  seems  certain  that  no 
educational  policy  at  the  present  time  can  include  the  teach- 
ing of  specific  political  doctrines,  or  try  to  prejudice  the 
minds  of  children  or  the  people  to  any  political  creed.  We 
are  in  a  position  in  regard  to  political  teaching  very  similar 
to  that  in  which  we  stand  about  religion :  we  must  not 
teach  creed,  but  we  may  and  must  teach  natural  religion. 
We  cannot  teach  politics  as  such,  but  we  must  teach  nat- 
ural democracy,  or  at  least  the  fundamental  social  habits 
and  functions. 

There  are  two  essential  educational  problems  of  democ- 
racy that  have  especial  reference  to  the  political  aspects 
of  it.  The  first  is  to  teach  universally  in  as  practical  a  man- 
ner as  possible  the  materials  out  of  which  political  wisdom 
may  be  derived.  We  maintain  that  the  lack  of  political 
education  and  experience  is  one  of  the  most  serious  defects 
of  the  German  people.  These  people  are  at  first  submissive 
to  an  extraordinary  degree  and  then  they  become  danger- 
ously revolutionary.  The  lack  of  political  competence  is 
shown  in  both  cases.  We  wish,  of  course,  neither  of  these 
excesses  in  our  own  country.  And  yet  we  do  have  to 
cope  at  the  present  time  with  both  a  tendency  to  fanaticism, 
radicalism  and  intense  partisanship,  and  with  indifference 
and  ignorance  of  the  nature  and  purpose  of  our  institu- 
tions and  government.  Both  the  indifference  and  the  par- 
tisanship play  into  the  hands  of  party  politics,  and  no  ad- 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  263 

vantages  gained  by  the  balance  of  parties  in  opposition  to 
one  another  can  compensate  for  the  loss  of  energy  and 
the  encouragement  of  inefficient  service  the  system  fosters. 

To  help  offset  these  tendencies  it  must  be  possible  to 
give  to  all  youths,  and  of  course  we  mean  both  sexes, 
through  our  educational  system  and  otherwise  an  educa- 
tion in  politics,  and  besides  this  some  practical  experience 
in  public  service  in  institutions  and  in  organizations.  This 
is  a  vital  spot  in  education  in  a  democracy;  we  have  tried 
too  much  to  reform  or  make  progress  in  government  from 
within  the  political  system  itself,  and  too  little  by  going 
back  to  the  ultimate  sources  of  social  life  and  educating 
the  people  as  a  whole  with  reference  to  playing  their  part 
in  political  life. 

The  work  of  education  in  the  field  of  politics  is  not 
merely  to  give  information,  but  to  establish  what  we  may 
best  call  morale.  We  need  an  attitude  and  spirit  through- 
out the  public  life  of  the  nation  in  which  there  shall  be 
constantly  displayed  the  same  qualities  which  we  see  so 
quickly  coming  to  light  in  time  of  war.  Enthusiasm,  seri- 
ousness of  purpose,  devotion  of  the  individual  to  common 
purpose  are  the  essential  elements  of  this  war  spirit.  To 
produce  and  sustain  this  in  the  activities  of  peace  is  an 
educational  problem.  The  first  task  is  presumably  to  es- 
tablish the  causes  and  the  organizations  through  which 
they  may  be  served,  but  political  education  itself  consists 
largely  in  the  production  of  public  spirit.  The  correction 
of  evils  in  the  political  system  is  of  course  but  a  small  part 
of  the  work  of  political  reform.  Dowd  says  that  it  is  the 
low  personal  idealism  of  mankind  that  creates  our  multi- 
tudinous social  problems  and  strews  the  path  of  history 
with  wreck  and  ruin.  That  is  of  course  true.  Raising 
the  quality  of  the  personal  idealism  of  the  people  is  the 
real  work  of  political  education.  Political  thought  which  is 
most  concerned  as  it  is  now  with  securing  advantage  for 
party,  class  and  individual  must  be  superseded  by  a  wider 


264  The  Psychology   of  Nal'tor.s 

interest  in  government  as  a  means  of  aiding  the  perform- 
ance of  the  functions  of  the  individual  and  the  group.  It 
is  the  purpose  to  be  accomplished  by  government,  not  its 
form,  and  certainly  not  the  interest  of  the  few  or  of  any 
class  that  must  be  emphasized,  until  partisan  politics  no 
longer  dominates  our  political  life.  To  accomplish  this 
change  means,  we  say,  raising  the  quality  of  the  personal 
idealism  of  the  people.  This  may  seem  an  ideal  and  im- 
possible task,  but  we  have  some  of  our  experiences  of  the 
war  at  least  to  give  us  encouragement. 

If  we  wish  to  consider  details,  we  may  notice  that  in 
an  educational  process  having  such  ends  as  we  have  sug- 
gested, the  teaching  of  civics,  for  example,  becomes  more 
functional,  the  teaching  of  what  an  individual  in  a  com- 
munity and  what  all  governments  do,  rather  than  analyzing 
the  structure  of  government.  Such  civics  teaches  the 
meaning  of  individuals  as  having  functions  which  are  rep- 
resented and  fulfilled  in  the  institutions  and  organizations  of 
society,  including  every  department  of  government.  It  is 
not  the  intention  to  enter  here  into  the  special  problems 
in  regard  to  the  content  and  method  of  teaching  civics 
in  the  schools,  although  it  is  evident  that  this  subject  must 
have  an  increased  place  in  the  future.  We  already  see  ad- 
vances both  in  the  purpose  and  the  plan  of  civics  teaching 
and  in  the  literature  prepared  for  the  schools.  Dunn,  for 
example,  makes  fundamental  in  all  the  teaching  of  civics  the 
question.  What  are  the  common  interests  which  people  in 
communities  are  seeking?  Tufts  also  tries  to  deal  with 
the  fundamental  ideas  upon  which  government  is  based. 

Presentation  of  facts  is  surely  a  necessary  part  of  all 
education,  for  it  is  an  indispensable  means  of  giving  the 
content  of  experience  upon  which  wisdom  as  a  selective 
appreciation  of  experience  is  based.  But  erudition  is  only 
a  part  of  education.  We  must  hold  firmly  now  to  the 
principle  which  is  indeed  an  aspect  of  the  democratic  ideal 
itself,  that  participation  is  also  a  necessar}'  part  of  educa- 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  265 

tion.  Institutions  become  real  to  the  child  through  the 
child's  association  with  them  in  some  active  way.  We 
shall  probably  see  the  idea  of  free  organization  carried  far, 
and  in  every  organization  and  every  institution,  private 
and  public,  there  must,  we  believe,  be  some  place  for  the 
services  and  the  interest  of  all.  Let  us  take  the  position 
that  there  is  nothing  in  government,  in  any  of  its  branches, 
that  is  outside  the  sphere  of  the  practical  life  of  the  in- 
dividual and  we  shall  have  the  right  point  of  view  even 
for  the  work  of  the  school  room.  Government,  in  a  word, 
is  not  a  specialization  of  function  in  which  the  few  are 
involved,  but  it  is  a  generic  function,  the  means,  we  assert, 
of  carrying  to  completion  all  the  projects  of  individuals 
in  all  their  social  relations.  Therefore  all,  not  merely  those 
who  just  now  are  included  among  voters,  but  all  women 
and  children,  must  have  a  part  in  the  general  education 
for  democracy  and  also  have  a  part  in  some  way  in  the  in- 
stitutions of  government.  From  first  to  last  government 
must  be  thought  of  and  understood  in  terms  of  what  it  does, 
as  a  phase  of  the  total  social  life  of  the  nation,  not  as 
something  outside  the  social  order.  Government  is  a  col- 
lective activity.  It  is  as  an  aspect  of  the  day's  work 
of  the  nation,  that  government  must  be  impressed  upon 
all  —  both  legal  citizens  and  citizens  in  the  making. 

The  second  phase  of  the  educational  problem  in  regard 
to  government  is  perhaps  after  all  only  the  first  in  an- 
other form.  If  we  hope  to  have  a  democratic  civiliza- 
tion in  any  real  sense  anywhere,  we  must  secure  efficiency 
and  superiority  both  in  individual  and  in  social  conduct, 
not  mainly  by  the  exertion  of  authority  (except  as  a  tem- 
porary make-shift)  but  by  making  all  the  people  of  a  na- 
tion susceptible  to  the  influences  of  the  best  life  and  thought 
the  nation  contains.  This  means  the  voluntary  and  inten- 
tional development  of  leadership.  This  we  have  spoken 
of  as  a  general  need;  it  is  also  a  phase  of  political  educa- 
tion.    The  genius,  the  leader,  must  of  course  himself  be 


266  The   l\syilioluyy   of  Naliotis 

produced  in  part  l)y  education.  We  must  have  such  condi- 
tions as  shall  allow  natural  leadership  to  come  to  the  surface, 
and  every  spark  of  genius  must  be  carefully  nourished.  But 
there  must  he  also  oj)portunity  for  what  the  genius  produces 
to  work  its  effect  upon  all,  as  a  stimulating  and  directing 
force,  in  turn  arousing  the  creative  activities  of  the  people. 
Democracy  seems  to  be  wholly  dependent  upon  what  seems 
now  the  accident  of  genius  for  raising  it  above  the  medi- 
ocrity of  the  average,  or  even  preventing  a  decline  in  its 
civilization.  It  is  this  idea  of  the  relation  of  the  best  to 
the  average  that  James  evidently  thought  to  be  the  funda- 
mental point  in  education.  Education  consists  in  his  view 
in  the  development  of  ability  to  recognize  the  good  in  every 
department  of  life,  the  ability  to  recognize  all  sham  and 
inferiority  and  the  habit  of  responding  to  and  choosing 
the  best.  Applied  to  the  problems  of  government,  this 
means  such  a  method  of  educating  the  young  as  will  make 
all  susceptible  to  and  appreciative  of  the  superior  qualities 
of  mind  and  character  that  may  be  exhibited  in  public  life. 
Such  responsiveness  being  itself  creative  and  a  powerful 
factor  in  producing  and  bringing  to  the  front  the  superior 
man,  it  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  necessary  and 
fundamental  qualities  of  a  democracy. 

We  might  single  out  the  teaching  of  history  and  biography 
as  the  best  means  of  educating  the  appreciative  powers  in 
regard  to  values  in  human  life,  and  the  best  means  of  facili- 
tating the  emergence  of  the  best  individuals  and  the  best 
principles,  and  of  making  their  influence  powerful,  but 
after  all  it  is  something  more  than  any  or  all  teaching  that 
is  required.  Most  fundamentally,  no  one  can  refuse  to 
admit  it  is  such  an  organization  of  the  whole  educational 
situation  as  will  allow,  or  rather  cause  and  encourage,  pre- 
cisely the  total  of  the  good  and  progressive  life  of  the  world 
to  play  upon  the  mood  and  the  spirit  of  the  school.  As- 
suredly the  school  is  not  to-day  so  fortunately  situated.  It 
is  too  much   removed   from  some   influences  and   far  too 


Political  Education  in  a  Democracy  267 

closely  joined  to  others.  Much  of  the  good  of  society  is 
walled  out  from  the  school  by  barriers  that  arise  in  politics. 
City  ways,  all  the  bad  life  of  the  streets,  the  trivial  interests 
of  the  day,  affect  the  school  too  much.  We  are  greatly  at 
fault  in  all  this,  because  we  do  not  take  education  as  yet 
seriously  enough.  There  must  be  now  a  decision.  Either 
the  school  must  be  content  to  remain  what  it  is  now,  a  local 
institution  performing  a  very  limited  service,  or  it  must 
arise  to  quite  new  heights,  and  mean  far  more  as  a  civilizing 
and  creative  force  than  it  has  thus  far.  The  school  must 
occupy  more  hours  of  the  day  and  more  days  in  the  year. 
It  must  claim  the  child  more  completely.  It  must  extend 
its  influences  further,  and  draw  its  life  from  a  deeper  soil. 
We  certainly  shall  never  allow  the  school  to  become  a  great 
evil  in  society,  but  it  is  almost  as  bad  morally  to  leave  it 
but  a  feeble  good.  Let  no  one  speak  any  longer  of  good 
schools.  Our  schools  were  good  for  yesterday,  perhaps. 
But  of  to-morrow's  needs  they  are  not  yet  even  fully  aware. 
The  school  has  yet  to  learn  with  certainty  to  lay  hold 
upon  the  fundamental  things  in  the  nature  of  the  child,  and 
to  appreciate  the  child's  real  and  greatest  needs.  Continuity 
and  creativeness  are  still  for  the  most  part  beyond  the 
powers  of  the  school. 

But  perhaps  after  all  we  are  asking  the  impossible.  Per- 
haps the  forces  needed  cannot  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  child.  Perhaps  conditions  are  too  unfavorable,  and 
an  educational  situation  cannot  be  devised  that  will  be 
greatly  superior  to  what  we  have  already.  Perhaps  the 
time  is  too  short.  Perhaps  worst  of  all  the  nature  of  the 
child  himself  is  too  trivial  and  unpromising.  But  if  we 
believe  this,  we  certainly  at  the  same  time  conclude  that 
democracy  is  a  failure  and  is  not  in  any  true  sense  possible 
at  all.  Democracy  cannot  be  created  by  forces  from  with- 
out, for  this  would  be  indeed  a  negation  of  its  nature. 
Democracy  is  self-creative.  It  grows  from  within.  But 
how  can  it  grow  from  within  unless  the  new  life  which  en- 


2  68  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

ters  into  it  be  creative;  and  how  can  this  life  be  creative 
and  progressive  unless  it  be  so  lived  that  it  shall  absorb 
all  the  good  the  old  life  has  in  it,  and  also  be  inspired  to 
go  beyond  it  in  every  possible  way?  Unless  democracy  is 
merely  a  product  and  natural  direction  of  growth  in  society, 
democracy  and  education  are  not  unrelated  to  one  another. 
If  democracy  is  a  good  that  can  be  obtained  only  by  con- 
scious effort,  we  may  suppose  that  one  of  the  greatest  factors 
in  producing  it  will  be  education. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

INDUSTRY    AND    EDUCATION 

We  have  as  yet  no  deep  philosophy  of  industry.  For 
better  or  for  worse  work  came  into  the  world  as  a  result 
of  desire.  ]\Ien  did  not  desire  work,  but  they  desired  that 
which  could  be  obtained  only  by  work.  These  desires  mul- 
tiplied and  the  modern  industrial  world  is  the  result.  When 
material  objects  alone  were  desired,  the  motive  of  work  was 
relatively  simple ;  but  as  we  pass  from  the  desire  for  goods 
to  the  desire  for  wealth,  and  to  the  desire  for  wealth  as  a 
means  of  gaining  power  and  prestige,  the  industrial  move- 
ment becomes  more  complex.  We  go  on  and  on,  producing 
ever  greater  wealth  and  generating  more  and  more  power, 
and  we  do  this  we  say  with  no  deep  purpose  and  with 
no  philosophy  of  life.  For  the  justification  of  it  all,  if 
it  be  under  our  control  at  all,  we  can  only  say  that  through 
industry  we  realize  an  abundant  and  enriched  life. 

The  good  and  evil  of  work  put  upon  us  some  of  the  most 
perplexing  of  our  problems.  Industry,  we  say,  is  the  way 
to  the  rich  and  the  abundant  life.  It  makes  life  more  com- 
plex. The  relations  of  life  are  multiplied  by  it.  It  repre- 
sents and  it  achieves  man's  conquest  over  nature.  It  puts 
force  into  his  hands.  It  has  its  ideal  side  and  its  romance. 
It  gives  scope  to  pure  motives  of  creativeness.  But 
the  industrial  life  has  also  its  dark  side.  It  has  cre- 
ated the  city  with  all  its  good  and  its  evil.  It  has  created 
great  nations,  but  see  what  the  added  populations  consist  of. 
It  brings  on  the  old  age  of  nations.  It  stands  for  struggle 
that  is  often  fruitless  and  unproductive.  It  engenders 
moods  and  arouses  interests  and  powers  that  lead  to  wars 

269 


270  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

and  revolutions.  It  fosters  sordid  interests,  and  has  made 
almost  universal  the  necessity  of  an  excess  of  toil  in  order 
barely  to  live.  The  great  majority  of  workers  do  not  live 
in  their  work,  because  they  produce  nothing  that  is  in  itself 
satisfying.  The  spirit  remains  outside  their  daily  life. 
Life  is  divided  into  a  period  of  toil  without  deep  interest 
and  motive,  and  play  which  may  be  only  a  narcotic  to  kill 
the  sense  of  monotony  and  fatigue.  Individuals  have  spe- 
cialized at  the  expense  of  a  whole  life.  Men  have  been  ex- 
ploited and  used  like  material  things.  Bergson  says  that 
by  industry  man  has  increased  his  physical  capacities,  but 
now  it  is  likely  that  his  soul  will  become  mechanized  rather 
than  that  his  soul  will  become  great  like  his  new  body.  In- 
dustry, worst  of  all,  has  become  an  end  in  itself,  rather 
than  a  means  to  higher  ends.  To  live,  on  the  one  hand, 
to  gain  wealth  on  the  other,  men  give  all  there  is  in  them 
to  toil. 

We  saw  all  this  before  the  war,  but  one  important  re- 
sult of  the  war  has  been  that  we  now  see  that  this  industrial 
life  which  has  so  rapidly  created  new  institutions,  and  which 
grips  the  world  almost  like  a  physical  law,  is  not  in  all  its 
ways  so  fixed  and  inevitable  as  we  had  perhaps  thought.  In 
regard  to  the  industrial  life,  more  than  in  any  other  de- 
partment of  life,  we  see  new  and  radical  thought,  and  the 
possibility  of  conscious  effects,  although  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  some  of  the  proposed  changes  may  well  cause 
apprehension. 

We  had  hoped,  even  before  the  war,  to  see  industry  and 
art  become  gradually  more  closely  related,  and  to  see  in- 
dustry become  more  socialized.  Its  physical  hardships  were 
to  some  extent  already  being  ameliorated.  We  hoped  to 
separate  the  great  industrial  interests  from  politics,  and  to 
curb  the  powers  industry  has  that  make  it  a  trouble  producer 
in  the  world.  But  now.  after  the  war.  we  see  possibilities 
of  more  fundamental  changes  in  the  industrial  order  than 
these  improvements  implied.     Our  thoughts  now  touch  upon 


Industry  and  Education  271 

the  whole  theory  of  the  industrial  life.  We  see  that  by  a  co- 
ordinated effort  and  common  understanding  which  it  is  no 
longer  chimerical  to  hope  for,  the  conditions  of  the  in- 
dustrial life  might  be  very  different.  In  the  first  place  we 
are  convinced  that  the  world  could  produce  vastly  more  and 
could  use  its  products  with  far  greater  economy  than  now. 
We  see  that  much  greater  return  for  less  labor  could  be 
gained.  Even  the  desires  themselves  upon  which  many  of 
the  evils  of  industrialism  are  based  have  shown  themselves 
to  be  controllable.  It  is  no  longer  idle  to  believe  that  the 
restraint  and  cooperation  necessary  to  eliminate  most  of 
the  poverty  from  the  world  are  possible  to  be  attained. 
The  isolation  of  the  individual  worker,  which  has  made  his 
struggle  so  hard,  seems  about  to  be  relieved  to  some  extent 
at  least.  We  e\'en  hope  for  permanently  better  relations 
between  the  capitalist  and  the  laborer,  and  to  see  some  of  the 
evils  of  competition,  even  the  industrial  competition  among 
nations,  lessened. 

Although  the  interest  here  is  in  the  relations  of  in- 
dustry to  education,  rather  than  in  the  practical  changes 
pending  in  the  industrial  world,  we  must  think  of  the 
two  as  related.  Changes  that  take  place  in  political  and 
industrial  conditions  will  be  likely  to  be  temporary  and  in- 
effectual unless  they  are  supported  by  changes  in  the  field 
of  education.  The  reformer  and  the  educator  must  work 
together. 

Noyes  says  that  the  most  fundamental  change  that  has 
occurred  during  the  war  has  been  the  world-wide  assertion 
of  public  control  of  industry  by  the  government.  Perkins 
says  that  centralization  is  the  order  of  the  day,  and  that 
the  government  now  properly  takes  on  many  functions  that 
once  belonged  to  the  states,  and  that  this  process  of  cen- 
tralization naturally  extends  to  international  relations. 
Smith  speaks  of  the  growing  interdependence  of  govern- 
ment and  industry  which  will  especially  give  security  to 
investment    in    productive    enterprises.     Hesse    says    that 


272  The  Psychology   of  i\' al'ions 

there  must  be  national  team  work  in  all  industries,  and 
that  in  a  democracy  everyihinf(  that  autocracy  can  accom- 
plish must  be  repeated,  but  upon  a  basis  of  voluntary  co- 
operation. In  France  it  has  been  proposed  by  Alfassa  that 
there  shall  be  established  a  department  of  national  economy, 
to  bring  about  a  closer  cooperation  than  there  has  been  in 
the  past  among-  private  interests,  and  to  centralize  industry. 
Wehle  thinks  that  in  America,  even  before  the  war,  indus- 
trial concentration  was  leading  to  political  concentration  and 
that  the  states  were  losing  their  relative  political  importance. 
The  grappling  of  states  individually  with  large  industrial 
problems  is  now,  he  says,  at  an  end.  Dillon  has  expressed 
the  view  that  England  ought  to  adopt  industrial  compulsion. 
Clementel,  the  French  minister  of  commerce,  thinks  France 
ought  to  substitute  for  liberty  without  restraint  in  the 
industrial  field,  liberty  organized  and  restricted. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  world  is  thoroughly  awake 
to  the  need  of  more  effectual  cooperation  in  industry,  and 
it  is  natural  that  the  first  thoughts  should  turn  to  govern- 
ment control  as  the  simplest  and  readiest  method  of  secur- 
ing it.  When  we  examine  these  suggestions  about  the  co- 
ordination and  centralization  of  industries  it  becomes  evi- 
dent that  most  writers  have  been  strongly  influenced  by 
Germany's  remarkable  success,  both  in  peace  and  war,  un- 
der the  system  of  governmental  control  of  industries.  The 
manner  in  which  the  German  government  turned  all  the 
country  into  one  great  industrial  plant  has  appealed  to  the 
imagination,  and  many  writers  see  in  centralization  under 
the  control  of  government  the  means  of  curing  most  of  the 
evils  of  industrialism.  There  are  many  proposals,  all  the 
way  from  the  plan  to  introduce  cabinet  ministers  with 
Hmited  power  to  have  oversight  over  industry  to  the  total 
abolishment  of  the  capitalistic  system  and  all  the  rights  of 
property.  Many  of  course,  while  still  believing  in  concen- 
tration and  cooperation,  cling  to  the  system  of  private  and 
individual  ownership,  and  believe  that  the  best  results  will 


Industry  and  Education  273 

be  obtained  in  the  end  without  any  radical  change  in  the 
relations  between  government  and  industry,  and  without 
resorting  to  any  socialistic  reform. 

Another  phase  of  the  problem  of  industry  in  which  we 
may  expect  to  see  great  changes  in  the  future  concerns  the 
status  of  labor  and  its  relation  to  capital.  The  rising  of 
the  laboring  class  is  certainly  the  greatest  internal  result 
of  the  war.  Here  again  the  question  is  whether  the  changes 
will  take  place  by  cooperation  or  by  compulsion  —  either 
on  the  part  of  government  or  of  some  organized  class.  Will 
labor  and  capital  continue  to  be  antagonistic,  or  will  they 
find  common  interest ;  or  will  the  only  solution  be  again 
some  radical  change  involving  change  of  government  or 
abrogation  entirely  of  our  present  system  of  ownership? 
That  the  position  of  labor  has  become  stronger  as  a  result  of 
the  war  no  one  can  doubt.  Perkins  says  we  are  just  en- 
tering upon  a  period  of  copartnership,  when  the  tool-user 
will  be  part  tool-owner,  and  capital  and  labor  will  share 
more  equally  in  the  profits.  Increase  in  wages  will  not  be 
the  remedy,  but  only  profit  sharing.  Others  think  the  same ; 
they  see  that  the  laborer's  discontent  is  not  all  a  protest 
against  his  hard  physical  conditions.  He  wants  more  so- 
cial equality,  more  equality  of  status  in  the  industrial 
world.  He  objects  not  so  much  to  what  the  capitalist  has 
as  to  what  he  is. 

There  has  no  more  illuminating  document  come  out  of  the 
war  than  the  report  on  reconstruction  made  by  a  sub- 
committee of  the  British  Labor  Party.  This  report  calls 
for  a  universal  minimum  wage ;  complete  state  insurance  of 
the  workers  against  unemployment ;  democratic  control  of 
industries ;  thorough  participation  by  the  workers  in  such 
control  on  the  basis  of  common  ownership  of  the  means  of 
production;  equitable  sharing  of  the  proceeds  by  all  who 
engage  in  production ;  state  ownership  of  the  nation's  land ; 
immediate  nationalization  of  railroads,  mines,  electric 
power,  canals,  harbors,  roads  and  telegraph ;  continued  gov- 


2  74  T'he  Psychology   of  Nations 

ernmental  control  of  shipping,  woolen,  leather,  clothing, 
boots  and  shoes,  milling,  baking,  butchering,  and  other  in- 
dustries; a  system  of  taxation  on  incomes  to  pay  off  the 
national  debt,  without  affecting  the  living  of  those  who 
labor. 

Although  such  a  document  as  this  could  hardly  up  to 
the  present  time  have  been  produced  by  American  workmen, 
since  here  political  doctrines  of  socialism  have  never  ob- 
tained a  strong  hold  upon  the  laboring  classes,  in  England 
these  radical  demands  are  nothing  surprising.  They  have 
the  support  at  many  points  of  so  keen  a  thinker  as  Russell. 
Russell  does  not,  it  is  true,  believe  that  Marxian  socialism 
is  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  capital  and  labor,  but 
he  does  believe  in  the  state  ownership  of  all  land,  that  the 
state  therefore  should  be  the  primary  recipient  of  all  rents, 
that  a  trade  or  industry  must  be  recognized  as  a  unity 
for  the  purposes  of  government,  with  some  kind  of  home 
rule  such  as  syndicalism  aims  at  securing.  Industrial 
democracy,  as  planned  in  the  cooperative  movement,  or 
some  form  of  syndicalism,  appears  to  him  to  be  the  most 
promising  line  of  advance. 

That  such  demands  and  proposals  as  these  are  significant 
signs  of  the  times  can  hardly  be  doubted.  That  from 
now  the  status  of  the  workman  w'ill  be  changed  and  changed 
in  directions  more  satisfactory  to  the  workman  we  may 
accept  as  one  of  the  chief  results  of  the  war.  Politically 
the  laborer  is  prepared  to  assert  his  independence.  Both 
his  social  and  his  industrial  status  are  likely  to  be  improved. 
He  will  be  better  safeguarded  against  unemployment. 
Wages  in  the  old  form  and  the  old  tradition  that  the  worker 
has  no  contract  with  his  employer  will,  in  all  probability, 
be  less  generally  acceptable.  Work,  if  these  new  conditions 
are  realized,  will  mean  more  to  the  w'orker.  His  own  in- 
terests and  the  purposes  of  his  work  will  be  more  harmon- 
iously related.  The  individual  made  more  secure  in  his 
work,  protected  more  by  law  and  participating  more  in  the 


Industry  and  Education  275 

affairs  of  business  and  government,  will  have  a  sense  of 
playing  a  more  dignified  part  in  the  social  economy.  Con- 
ceal as  we  may  the  inferiority  of  the  laborer's  position 
under  the  pretenses  of  democracy  and  liberty  and  equality, 
this  inferiority  of  position  exists  and  the  inequality  that 
prevails  in  democratic  society  is  certainly  one  of  the  fertile 
sources  of  evil  in  the  world  to-day.  We  have  still  to  see 
to  what  extent  the  workman,  his  lot  ameliorated  in  many 
ways,  and  his  position  changed,  will  himself  become  a 
new  and  different  man,  and  thus  make  the  world  itself  a 
different  place  in  which  to  live.  All  that  is  thus  suggested 
we  have  a  right  at  least  to  hope  for  now.  If  it  is  also 
worked  for  with  intelligence  and  good  will,  why  should 
it  not  come  to  pass? 

The  third  idea  which  is  beginning  to  make  great  changes 
in  the  whole  field  of  the  industrial  life  and  throughout 
all  the  practical  life  is  the  idea  of  economy.  This  means 
that  in  many  ways  questions  of  the  values,  the  purposes, 
and  the  ways  and  means  of  what  is  done  in  the  world  are 
being  sharply  examined.  Labor  has  been  uncritical  of  its 
purposes,  and  lavish  and  wasteful  of  its  energies,  however 
watchful  it  may  have  been  of  its  rights.  Production  has 
been  governed  too  much  by  desire,  too  little  by  careful  con- 
sideration of  need.  Distribution  has  been  carelessly  con- 
ducted, allowing  large  losses  of  time  and  material.  Con- 
sumption has  been  quite  as  careless  as  the  rest,  and  has  been 
thoroughly  selfish  as  well.  The  war  has  changed  many 
of  our  ideas.  Thrift  has  become  a  word  with  a  new  mean- 
ing. We  see  what  industry  at  its  worst  might  do  in  the 
world,  and  on  the  other  hand  what  wise  control  of  all  the 
motives  and  processes  that  enter  into  labor  and  all  the 
economic  life  might  accomplish. 

Some  of  these  changes  are  coming  from  readjustment 
in  the  coordination  of  industrial  processes  themselves.  We 
hear  much  of  standardization  and  stabilization.  An  eco- 
nomic technique  and  the  control  of  fluctuating  conditions 


276  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

might  do  much  to  increase  the  efficiency  of  industry  in 
every  way.  'ihis  idea  of  the  ajiphcation  of  scientific  pro- 
cedure to  hfe  we  see  extending  to  the  c(jntrol  of  the  energies 
of  the  human  factor.  We  have  already  spoken  of  guaran- 
tees that  afYect  the  spirit  and  the  morale  of  labor.  We  hear 
of  the  prevention  of  unemployment,  the  removal  of  the  bug- 
bear of  "  losing  the  job."  Most  advance  of  all  is  being 
made  in  the  application  of  the  principles  of  mental  and 
physical  hygiene  and  of  scientific  management  to  the  actual 
details  of  movement  and  the  whole  process  of  expenditure 
of  energy,  counting  costs  in  terms  of  time  and  energy,  in 
much  the  same  way  as  all  the  items  of  value  that  enter  into 
production  are  estimated.  Some  writers,  for  example 
Gilbreth,  see  in  this  movement  a  great  advance.  It  is  a  way 
of  giving  equal  opportunity  to  all.  Economy  becomes  a 
factor  in  freedom,  since  it  helps  to  eliminate  the  drudgery 
and  depression  of  toil. 

Plainly,  then,  economy  or  thrift  has  a  much  wider  mean- 
ing than  mere  saving.  It  is  many-sided,  and  the  study  of 
economy  in  the  use  of  essentials  is  but  a  part  of  it.  The 
war  has,  of  course,  emphasized  this,  and  this  idea  of  saving 
has  served  the  purpose  of  awakening  an  interest  in  the 
whole  theory  and  purpose  of  work.  There  is  a  better  un- 
derstanding of  values,  and  of  the  difference  between  the  es- 
sential and  the  unessential,  and  we  see  that  not  all  labor 
that  commands  pay  is  useful  labor.  Many  things  that  the 
public  knew  but  little  about  before  are  becoming  better  un- 
derstood. Industry,  finance,  business,  taxes,  transporta- 
tion, have  all  to  some  extent  become  popular  subjects.  The 
present  high  cost  of  living  raises  questions  in  the  theory  of 
the  economic  aspect  of  life  that  have  compelled  the  at- 
tention of  the  public.  The  theory  of  money,  interest,  sav- 
ings, foreign  investments,  the  place  of  gold  in  the  world's 
economy  is  carried  a  step  further  and  is  popularly  more 
extended.  We  hear  all  sorts  of  proposals  about  the  produc- 
tion, the  distribution  and  the  consumption  of  goods,  which 


Industry  and  Education  277 

are  intended  to  make  living  easier  and  less  expensive.  In- 
creased production  of  staples  and  more  direct  route  from 
producer  to  consumer  are  urged  upon  all,  and  the  economists 
have  many  suggestions  for  increasing  our  prosperity :  while 
financiers  try  to  direct  to  the  best  purpose  our  investments 
at  home  and  abroad.  Fisher  attacks  the  whole  theory  of 
costs  at  what  he  believes  its  root,  suggesting  a  plan  of  "  stab- 
ilizing the  dollar  itself  "  by  using  the  index  numbers  of 
standard  articles  as  units  of  value,  and  regulating  the 
weight  of  gold  in  the  dollar  according  to  the  fluctuations  of 
these.  All  these  plans,  hasty  and  narrowly  conceived  as 
many  of  them  seem  to  be,  are  of  interest  and  have  value, 
for  they  indicate  a  serious  determination  to  solve  the  funda- 
mental problems  of  the  practical  life. 

Any  educational  theory  that  could  hope  to  deal  adequately 
with  the  needs  and  the  impending  changes  in  the  industrial 
situation  of  to-day  must  take  into  consideration  the  basic 
facts  both  of  the  individual  and  the  social  life.  Teaching 
of  industry  and  all  attempts  to  teach  vocation  must  be  seen 
by  all  now  to  be  but  a  small  part  of  education  with  refer- 
ence to  the  industrial  life.  We  must  do  much  more  funda- 
mental things  than  these.  We  must  plan  far  ahead  and 
seek  to  lay  a  firm  foundation  for  the  idea  of  cooperation 
which  appears  to  be  the  leading  thought  of  industrialism  to- 
day. Every  individual,  we  should  say,  ought  to  be  educated 
in  the  fundamentals  of  labor,  so  that  he  may  understand 
for  himself  what  labor  means.  Finally  the  idea  of  thrift 
in  all  its  implications  must  be  made  a  part  of  the  educational 
program.  All  this  may  seem  too  ideal  and  impracticable  to 
think  of  in  connection  with  industrial  education,  but  if  we 
consider  industry  and  industrialism  as  the  center  of  our 
whole  civilization,  as  it  appears  to  be  now,  what  less  ideal 
educational  foundation  will  be  sufficient  as  preparation  for 
and  control  of  the  industrial  life?  No  teaching  of  trades, 
we  assert,  will  be  enough.  We  shall  need  to  apply,  in  in- 
dustrial education  or  in  an  educational  plan  that  takes  in- 


27^  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

tlustry  into  account,  all  the  methods  of  teaching:  those  that 
employ  industry  itself,  but  also  art,  erudition,  and  play. 

It  is  first  with  industrialism  as  a  world  condition  that 
education  is  concerned.  Industrialism  has  been,  as  all  must 
recognize,  too  individualistic.  It  has  motives  and  moods 
and  products,  and  it  grows  in  social  conditions,  that  are  full 
of  danger  for  society.  Industrialism  lacks  a  soul,  as  Berg- 
son  would  say.  Yet  it  is  a  movement  that  sweeps  on  with 
almost  irresistible  force.  Its  most  characteristic  product 
is  not  what  it  turns  out  in  shops,  but  city  life  itself.  Many 
would  agree  with  Russell  in  saying  that  all  the  great  cities 
are  centers  of  deterioration  in  the  life  of  their  nations. 
Education,  then,  must  undertake  to  control  industrialism. 
This  does  not  mean,  necessarily,  that  it  must  try  to  check 
it,  but  that  the  motives  in  individual  and  social  life  that 
produce  industrialism  must  in  some  way  be  under  the  control 
of  educational  forces. 

First  of  all  it  seems  certain  that  no  political  arrange- 
ment, and  no  change  taking  place  entirely  within  the  indus- 
trial system  itself,  and  no  simple  and  direct  educational 
procedure  will  give  us  control  over  the  forces  of  industrial- 
ism. It  is  mainly  by  preventing  the  city  spirit  or  mood 
from  developing  too  fast  and  thus  engulfing  the  children  of 
the  nation  that  we  can  introduce  a  conscious  factor  strong 
enough  to  hold  industrial  development  within  bounds.  This 
means,  we  must  earnestly  demand,  turning  back  the  flow 
of  life  from  country  to  city  by  educating  all  children  in 
the  environment  of  the  country.  This  would  have  a  double 
effect  upon  the  industrialism  of  the  day.  It  would  break 
up  the  present  inezntable  inheritance  by  the  city  child  of  all 
the  ideals  and  moods  of  the  city,  and  it  n'ould  give  oppor- 
tunity for  training  in  the  activities  that  are  basic  to  all 
industry,  zvhich  alone,  in  our  view,  can  give  to  industry 
a  solid  and  normal  foundation.  By  such  effects,  in  such 
a  general  way,  upon  the  children  of  an  industrial  nation,  we 
might  reasonably  hope  to  prevent  the  evil  effects  upon  our 


Industry  and  Education  279 

national  life  from  the  fatigue,  the  routine,  and  the  deaden- 
ing of  the  spirit  which  even  under  improved  conditions  can- 
not be  overcome  in  an  industrial  life  that  is  left  to  its 
monotonous  grind  and  its  morbid  excitements  and  exaggera- 
tions. 

Another  work  that  education  must  in  the  end  do  for 
the  industrial  life  is  to  infuse  into  it  an  ideal  and  a  pur- 
pose. Industry  is  too  individualistic,  we  say.  It  works  for 
a  living,  for  power,  from  necessity.  It  lacks  through  and 
through  as  yet  the  spirit  of  free  and  intelligent  coopera- 
tion for  common  and  remote  ends.  Cooperation  in  the 
industrial  world,  we  have  seen  reason  to  believe,  is  likely 
to  be  the  great  word  of  the  future.  It  is  precisely  the  work 
of  education  to  make  the  future  of  industry  an  expression 
of  free  activity,  to  make  it  democratic,  and  to  such  an  ex- 
tent, we  might  hope,  that  socialism,  whether  as  a  govern- 
mental interference  or  as  a  class  system,  would  not  be 
necessary  —  or  possible.  In  trying  to  give  industrialism 
an  ideal,  we  must  presumably  go  back  to  elemental  mental 
processes.  We  must,  in  the  beginning,  present  the  world's 
work  dramatically  to  the  child.  We  must  give  work  in- 
terest, and  it  is  certainly  one  of  the  chief  purposes  of  that 
nondescript  subject  we  call  geography  thus  to  give  the  child 
a  deep  appreciation  of  the  world  as  a  world  of  men  and 
women  engaged  in  work.  We  must  show  industry  as  a 
world-wide  purpose,  not  as  something  essentially  individual 
and  competitive.  We  must  show  it  as  an  adventure  on 
the  part  of  man  in  which  he  goes  forth  to  seek  conquest  over 
the  physical  world;  we  must  think  of  it  as  a  means  to  an 
end,  of  fulfilling  purposes  not  all  of  which  perhaps  can  as 
yet  be  foreseen,  but  which  certainly  can  be  no  mere  satis- 
faction of  the  individual's  desires  of  the  day.  This  is  what 
we  mean  by  putting  a  soul  into  industry.  Soul  means  pur- 
pose —  purpose  which  includes  more  than  the  desires  of 
the  individual,  and  in  which  the  interests  of  the  world  as  a 
whole  are  involved.     Industry  that  has  thus  a  purpose,  and 


2  8o  2' he  Piycliology   of  Nations 

that  is  imbued  with  a  spirit  of  freedom  takes  its  place 
among  the  psychic  forces  and  becomes  a  part  of  the  mechan- 
ism of  mental  evolution.  It  is  this  idealism  of  industry, 
toward  the  production  of  which  we  must  turn  every  educa- 
tional resource,  that  must  offset  its  materialism.  This  is, 
in  part,  the  work  of  the  aesthetic  experiences,  the  dramatic 
presentation  of  the  day's  work  to  the  child;  but  art  can 
of  course  work  only  upon  the  soil  of  experience;  the  child 
must  see  the  world  teeming  with  human  activity,  but  he 
must  observe  it  in  a  detached  way,  rather  than  as  a  par- 
ticipant in  its  realism  and  its  dull  and  its  unwholesome 
moods.  Then  we  shall  have  a  content  upon  which  the 
aesthetic  motives  can  work.  In  this  idealized  industrial  ex- 
perience, we  try  to  make  visible  the  real  motives  which  in  the 
future  must  dominate  the  world's  work. 

All  this  may  seem  too  general  and  too  ideal,  but  if 
we  do  not  begin  with  broad  plans,  and  if  we  do  not  take 
a  far  look  ahead,  we  shall  fail  now  at  a  vital  point  of  the 
social  development  of  man.  The  result  at  which  we  aim 
is  the  socialization  of  the  motives  of  industry.  We  make 
work  voluntary  by  bringing  into  it  persuasively  and  in- 
sidiously deep  motives  and  interests  which  represent  social 
purposes  and  ideals.  Given  these  motives  and  the  begin- 
ning of  a  change  from  the  relatively  more  individualistic 
to  the  relatively  more  social  spirit  in  industry,  the  actual 
means  of  cooperation  would  not  be  far  to  seek.  Work 
would  become  by  its  own  inner  development  under  such  con- 
ditions, something  different  from  an  unwilling  service  of 
the  individual,  a  compulsory  service  to  family  or  state. 
Everything  we  can  do  to  give  to  children  and  to  all  workers 
an  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  social  meaning  and  pur- 
pose of  w^ork  is  both  industrial  training  and  an  educa- 
tion in  basic  social  relations.  This  socialization  of  the 
moods  of  work  and  the  founding  of  them  upon  the  neces- 
sary experiences,  is  as  important  as  anything  education  is  at 
the  present  time  called  upon  to  do.     Given  this  foundation, 


Industry  and  Education  281 

precisely  the  form  industrial  education,  in  the  ordinary 
sense,  shall  take,  seems  to  be  of  secondary  importance. 

Turning  now  to  another  phase  of  the  industrial  problem 
on  its  educational  side,  one  cannot  escape  the  conviction  that 
the  rising  tide  of  the  powers  of  labor  presents  urgent  prob- 
lems to  the  educator.  The  common  man,  as  we  call  him,  is 
to  take  a  greater  part  in  the  affairs  of  business  and  state, 
and  the  education  of  the  common  man  with  reference  to  the 
especial  capacity,  as  worker,  in  which  he  seeks  this  new  posi- 
tion, becomes  highly  important.  This  education  of  the  peo- 
ple with  specific  reference  to  work  is  of  course  something 
more  than  teaching  vocation.  Education,  indeed,  with  any 
explicit  attention  to  labor  itself,  whether  in  its  industrial 
or  its  political  implications,  is  but  a  part  of  the  educational 
problem.  All  education  for  the  democratic  life  is  involved 
in  it.  The  whole  problem  of  specialization  comes  up,  and 
indeed  all  questions  of  social  education  in  one  form  or  an- 
other. 

Specialization,  in  particular,  can  no  longer  be  treated 
with  the  indifference  that  has  so  far  characterized  our  in- 
dustrial education.  The  ideal  of  fitting  the  boy  for  work 
is  as  naive  in  one  way  as  that  of  our  generalized  educa- 
tion is  in  another.  //  the  zvar  has  taught  its  anything  be- 
yond a  doubt,  it  is  that  specialization  must  never  be  such  a 
differentiation  as  shall  infringe  upon  the  common  ground  of 
human  nature.  We  must  take  this  into  consideration  in  all 
our  vocational  training.  We  must  preserve  an  identity  in 
all  the  fundamental  experiences.  In  a  democracy  this  ap- 
pears to  be  wholly  necessary,  and  to  outweigh  all  considera- 
tions of  efiiciency.  The  individual  must  be  kept  whole  and 
generic,  so  that  each  individual  is  an  epitome,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  virtues  and  the  ideals  of  the  nation.  The  humanity  of 
the  man  must  be  first,  and  his  special  function  secondary. 
This  does  not  imply  that  we  must  not  give  to  all  children 
individual  and  vocational  training.  All  must  be  directed 
towards  life  work.     We  may  even  carry  vocational  train- 


282  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

ing  further  than  it  has  been  extended  anywhere  as  yet,  but 
we  must  see  that  industry  occupies  the  right  place  in  the 
school,  and  in  all  educational  processes.  It  is  neither  the 
whole  method  and  purpose  of  the  school,  nor  something 
simply  added  to  the  curriculum.  It  is  a  phase  of  the  life  of 
the  school,  both  in  its  active  and  its  receptive  states.  The 
child  must  live  in  an  atmosphere  in  which  both  present  and 
future  usefulness  are  assumed  and  provided  for.  The  idea 
of  a  life  of  work  must  be  made  early  an  accepted  plan  of 
the  child,  and  it  must  be  one  of  the  entirely  general  tasks  of 
the  school  to  see  that  the  tendency  of  the  child  in  the  school 
is  toward  occupation.  Occupation  must  in  fact  be  made  to 
grow  naturally  out  of  the  life  the  child  leads  in  the  school. 
All  those  disharmonies  in  our  industrial  countries  such 
as  the  prevalent  discord  between  working  and  capitalistic 
classes  seem,  we  have  said,  to  be  social  rather  than  economic 
in  nature.  Social  education,  then,  is  the  main  cure  for 
them,  if  we  wish  to  attack  them  at  their  root.  The  motives 
of  pride  and  the  sense  of  inferiority  have  to  be  dealt  with 
in  a  practical  manner.  We  sometimes  quite  overlook  the 
importance  of  habitual  moods  or  states  of  feeling  in  society 
and  in  the  school.  These  moods  are  powers  which  mo- 
tivate conduct.  Any  form  of  education  in  which  the  poorer 
and  less  favored  are  given  an  opportunity  to  acquire  the 
experiences,  and  through  these  the  moods,  that  especially 
distinguish  the  more  favored  class,  strikes  at  the  general  dis- 
parity in  society  which  takes  form  in  such  antagonisms  as 
that  between  capital  and  labor.  It  is  not  difference  in  de- 
gree but  difference  in  kind  of  experience  that  appears  to 
separate  the  classes  from  one  another.  The  difference 
seems  to  lie  in  those  parts  of  life  w^hich  are  sometimes  be- 
lieved to  be  the  unessentials  and  which  indeed  our  whole 
educational  policy  assumes  apparently  to  be  trivial.  The 
fundamental  differences  hetzveen  the  poor  and  the  rich,  the 
favored  and  the  common  people,  is  in  the  sphere  of  the 
(esthetic.     Distinction  of  manner  and  an  environment  rich 


Industry  and  Education  283 

in  aesthetic  qualities  are  the  main  advantages  of  the  few, 
as  compared  with  the  many.  Social  experience  is  what  is 
most  needed  by  the  many,  but  of  course  this  experience  can 
never  be  gained  by  making  the  educational  institutions 
merely  democratic,  and  especially  social  experience  cannot 
be  gained  in  a  school  in  which  all  situations  are  studiously 
avoided  in  which  really  significant  social  relations  are  likely 
to  be  experienced.  We  gain  no  social  experience  in  the 
naive  and  the  highly  special  activities  of  the  school  which 
for  the  most  part  is  arranged  in  such  a  way  as  to  ex- 
clude organized  social  relations.  This  is  a  process  in  which 
such  leveling  as  there  is  tends  to  be  downward,  whereas 
what  we  need  is  for  all  the  truly  aristocratic  elements  in 
our  national  life  to  have  an  opportunity  to  propagate  them- 
selves and  to  extend  to  the  many.  Leaving  aside  the  need 
of  a  differently  organized  social  life  in  the  school,  we 
might  say  that  there  is  hardly  a  greater  need  in  democratic 
countries  now  than  that  of  recruiting  the  rank  and  file 
of  teachers  from  a  socially  superior  class.  These  socially 
favored  individuals  have  given  themselves  loyally  to  the 
service  of  country  in  a  time  of  war,  for  two  if  no  more 
of  their  deepest  motives  have  been  appealed  to  —  the 
dramatic  interest  and  the  spirit  of  noblesse  oblige.  There 
are  duties  in  times  of  peace  which  are  quite  as  important, 
but  which  as  yet  appeal  to  no  strong  motive,  and  have  not 
even  been  presented  in  the  form  of  obligation.  Once  these 
common  tasks  were  made  to  appear  a  part  of  the  fulfillment 
of  duty  to  country,  the  way  to  finding  deep  satisfaction  in 
them  might  be  opened.  Social  and  dramatic  elements  would 
be  introduced  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Another  need  throughout  our  whole  effort  to  educate 
all  in  and  for  a  life  of  work,  one  which  has  appealed  to 
many  writers  in  recent  years,  is  the  need  of  making  all 
the  experience  of  work  more  creative  or  more  free  and 
animated  or  joyous  in  mood.  This  means,  again,  that  in 
all  industrial  education  the  mood  must  be  social  and  the 


284  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

form  (Esthetic  or  dramatic.  Social  values  must  be  felt 
through  social  activity,  and  the  sense  of  worth  in  labor  and 
of  value  of  the  product  which  is  felt  in  the  social  mood 
must  be  enhanced  by  the  dramatic  form  of  the  activity 
and  the  artistic  quality  of  the  product.  This  is  also  the  con- 
dition for  creative  activity.  Some  writers  apparently  now 
see  in  this  need  of  making  the  activity  of  all  those  who 
work  more  creative,  more  free  and  more  joyous  the  crucial 
problem  of  education  and  of  social  adjustment.  This  is 
Russell's  constant  theme.  Helen  Marot  in  "  Creative  In- 
dustry "  says  that  our  problem  is  to  develop  an  industrial 
system  that  shall  stimulate  and  satisfy  the  native  impulse  for 
creative  production.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how,  by  any 
other  educational  process  than  one  which  is  essentially 
aesthetic  and  social,  w'e  can  make  much  headway  toward 
changing  the  conception  of  work  from  the  now  prevalent 
one  of  a  means  of  making  a  living,  more  or  less  under  com- 
pulsion, to  that  of  a  voluntary  social  act  done  both  for  its 
utility  from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual  and  also  because 
of  its  social  value,  and  performed  to  some  extent,  however 
humble  the  work,  in  the  spirit  of  the  creative  artist. 

For  the  adult  generation  that  now  w^orks  (and  for  how 
many  generations  to  come  we  do  not  know^.  we  cannot 
hope  to  make  ideal  conditions.  Work  will  still  be  work, 
with  its  evil  implirations,  as  toil  without  complete  inner  sat- 
isfaction, and  without  sufficiently  free  motives.  But  the 
direction  in  w'hich  practical  changes  should  be  made  seems 
clear.  There  must  still  be  a  lessening  of  the  hours  of  rou- 
tine labor,  until  there  are  perhaps  no  longer  more  than  six 
or  five  devoted  to  vocation.  The  remainder  of  life  is  not 
for  idleness  but  must  be  in  part  productive  or  the  lessened 
hours  of  routine  will  not  be  possible.  There  must  be  pos- 
sibility of  both  practical  and  recreational  activities  outside 
the  regular  day's  work,  as  well  as  for  educational  work,  all 
of  these  in  part  at  least  publicly  provided  for.  This  ac- 
tivity may  serve  many  purposes  and  accomplish  a  variety 


Industry  and  Education  285 

of  results.  As  educational  it  ought  to  open  up  new  oppor- 
tunities; it  must  fulfill  the  desire  for  creative  activity;  it 
must  be  a  socializing  power;  it  must  lead  to  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  nature  and  value  of  skill  and  efficiency;  it  must 
introduce  all  to  the  higher  world  of  art  and  the  intellectual 
life.  Above  all  it  must  impress  deeply  the  truth  that  growth 
in  the  normal  life  is  never  ended. 

The  third  phase  of  industrial  education  which  is  to  be 
emphasized  now  is  the  teaching  of  what  we  have  called 
thrift.  This  idea  of  thrift,  for  pedagogical  purposes,  is 
equivalent  to  the  broad  principle  that  purposes  in  this  world 
are  achieved  by  the  expenditure  of  force  —  by  the  control 
of  energies  which  are  not  unlimited  in  amount  as  now  con- 
trolled and  which  are  subject  to  definite  laws.  Since  ob- 
jects which  are  to  be  secured  by  the  expenditure  of  energy 
differ  in  value  it  is  a  part  of  this  education  in  thrift,  indeed 
an  important  and  necessary  part,  to  give  to  all  such  knowl- 
edge and  powers  of  appreciation  as  will  enable  them  to  rec- 
ognize that  which  is  essential,  and  to  give  the  essential  and 
the  unessential  their  proper  places  in  the  whole  economy  of 
life. 

It  will  never  be  right  of  course  to  inspire  a  parsimonious 
spirit  in  regard  either  to  goods  or  to  energies.  Life  it- 
self and  all  its  energies  must  be  given  freely ;  material  goods 
must  not  be  evaluated  too  minutely.  The  miserly  life  is  not 
what  we  wish  to  teach.  Still  there  is  a  wise  attitude  toward 
all  material  things  and  toward  all  values  which  recognizes 
goods  as  means  to  ends,  which  places  true  values  high  and 
demands  economy  in  the  use  of  all  things  that  must  be  con- 
served in  order  to  attain  them. 

It  must  be  a  part  of  the  work  of  physiology,  which  thus 
branches  out  into  psychology,  to  teach  to  all  the  ef^cient 
use  of  human  energies.  These  energies  are  the  precious 
things  in  the  world;  they  must  be  valued  and  respected  as 
the  source  of  all  ef^ciency.  The  idea  of  economy  of  move- 
ment, from  this  standpoint,  has  an  important  place  in  all 


2  86  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

motor  or  industrial  or  manual  training.  Processes  must 
be  regarded  as  definite  series  of  acts  in  which  we  may 
approach  perfection.  Technique  in  motor  operations  is 
not  to  be  regarded  lighdy  as  a  mere  finish  applied  to  useful 
acts.  It  is  the  expression  of  an  ideal  of  efficiency  and  econ- 
omy. Children  recognize  the  value  of  technique  in  games; 
its  wider  and  more  practical  application  needs  to  be  im- 
pressed. 

In  the  same  w^ay  knowledge  of  the  precise  values  and  uses 
of  material  things  ought  to  be  imparted.  The  war  has  had 
the  effect  of  showing  all  of  us  the  values  of  materials  and 
the  relations  of  materials  to  one  another.  It  has  given 
us  a  sense  of  the  great  powers  of  natural  wealth,  and  also 
of  its  limitations  and  the  weak  points  that  exist  now  in 
our  economy.  The  war  has  proved  to  us  how  closely  re- 
lated the  things  we  use  lavishly  and  wastefully  may  be 
to  the  most  ideal  possessions.  It  has  shown  that  the  pro- 
duction, the  distribution  and  the  use  of  wealth  of  all  kinds 
are  parts  of  the  accomplishment  of  the  main  purposes  of 
life  and  that  all  these  things  belong  to  the  sphere  of  duty; 
and  that  no  individual  can  escape  obligations  in  regard 
to  economy. 

Education,  therefore,  must  lay  foundations  both  for  an 
understanding  of  economy  and  for  the  practice  of  it.  First 
of  all,  every  individual,  we  may  assume,  ought  to  have 
some  experience  in  the  production  of  the  elementary  forms 
of  material  goods,  and  in  the  conversion  of  them  into 
higher  values  and  in  their  conservation.  Wo.  looked  care- 
fully to  some  of  these  activities  as  a  war  measure.  It  is 
hardly  less  necessary  in  times  of  peace.  We  should  teach 
these  things,  not  simply  because  the  practice  of  them  is 
educational,  but  because  the  practice  of  them  is  useful,  and 
is  a  necessary  service,  on  the  part  of  every  individual,  to 
the  world.  Adding  to  the  world's  store  of  goods  and  con- 
sciousness of  the  need  of  doing  this  directly  or  indirectly 
should  be  regarded  as  a  fundamental  duty  and  habit.     To 


Industry  and  Education  287 

establish  both  the  habit  and  the  sense  of  duty,  we  may 
suppose,  a  stage  is  necessary  in  which  the  individual's  con- 
tribution shall  be  direct  and  tangible.  Hence  the  value  of 
those  educational  activities  that  deal  with  foods  and  their 
conservation. 

On  a  little  higher  plane,  and  in  a  little  different  way 
we  can  apply  the  same  thoughts  to  the  whole  cycle  of  ma- 
terial things.  The  distribution  of  wealth  is  of  course  in 
part  a  technical  and  a  theoretical  problem.  It  is  also  a 
practical  and  a  general  one.  All  at  least  ought  to  be  judges 
of  the  waste  that  now  goes  on  in  the  industrial  life  because 
the  "  middleman  "  has  occupied  such  a  place  of  vantage 
in  the  economic  order.  In  teaching  occupation  and  in  all 
preparation  for  vocation  ought  we  not  to  take  this  into 
consideration?  Occupations  that  are  purely  distributive 
and  which  involve  a  great  waste  of  human  energies  and  of 
materials  have  been  unduly  emphasized,  at  least  by  default 
of  more  positive  preparation,  by  the  school.  Because  they 
are  easy  and  untechnical  and  have  a  little  elegance  about 
them,  in  some  cases,  they  fit  in  very  well  with  the  generality 
and  bookishness  and  detachment  from  real  life  that  the 
school  sometimes  represents. 

The  occupations  that  are  more  creative,  both  in  the  field 
of  material  things  and  of  ideas,  have,  relatively  speaking, 
been  neglected.  Inventiveness  especially  seems  to  be  a  qual- 
ity that  we  have  supposed  to  be  a  gift  of  the  gods,  and  we 
have  given  but  little  attention  to  producing  it,  or  even  giving 
it  an  opportunity  to  display  itself.  Have  we  not  gained 
from  the  war  new  impressions  both  about  the  powers  of 
the  human  mind  in  producing  new  thoughts  and  in  con- 
trolling both  material  and  psychic  forces,  and  also  about 
the  necessity  for  developing  originality  and  independence? 
Is  it  too  much  to  expect  now  that  greater  ingenuity  be 
displayed  in  education  itself  to  the  end  of  producing  more 
originality?  This  is  a  hackneyed  request  to  make  of  the 
school,  but  it  seems  certain  that  we  do  not  succeed  in  ob- 


288  Tlie  Psychology   of  Xalions 

taining  through  our  educational  processes  the  highest  pos- 
sible degree  of  productiveness  of  mind,  as  regards  either 
quantity  or  c|uality.  It  is  because  indeed  we  seem  to  be 
very  far  from  our  limit  in  these  respects,  and  because  better 
results  might  perhaps  so  easily  be  gained  that  it  seems  neces- 
sary to  make  this  plea  so  often.  More  activity,  more  art, 
greater  enrichment  of  the  mind,  ought  to  have  the  desired 
result,  especially  if  the  environment  of  the  school  could  be  so 
changed  that  its  moods  would  be  more  joyous  and  intense. 
These  changes  are  at  any  rate  demanded  for  so  many  other 
reasons  that  if  they  fail  to  make  the  intellect  more  produc- 
tive, they  will  not  be  completely  a  failure. 

Education  in  the  use  of  wealth  must  now  be  regarded 
as  a  part  of  moral  education.  In  America  we  have  ignored 
the  necessity  of  thrift,  and  the  idea  of  thrift  has  certainly 
had  no  part  in  education.  The  proper  use  of  everything  we 
produce  or  own  is  a  fundamental  part  of  conduct,  and  it 
ought  to  be  a  persistent  theme  in  education.  We  have  now 
the  interest  and  incentive  that  have  come  from  the  war,  we 
say,  for  we  have  felt,  if  only  remotely,  what  poverty 
means,  and  we  have  seen  that  no  amount  of  natural  wealth 
and  no  degree  of  civilization  can  wholly  insure  us  against 
famine  and  disaster.  We  need  throughout  our  national  life 
now,  again,  something  like  the  old  New  England  conscience 
in  the  uses  of  things,  applied  in  a  different  way.  of 
course,  and  now  made  more  effectual  by  our  broader  science. 
The  encouragement  of  this  spirit  will  perhaps  make  the  dif- 
ference in  the  end  between  having  a  world  seriously  engaged 
in  progressive  tasks  with  its  material  forces  well  in  hand, 
and  a  world  which  in  all  its  practical  affairs,  large  and 
small,  is  operated  according  to  the  principle  or  the  lack 
of  principle  of  a  laisscz  faire  attitude  throughout  life.  Sav- 
ing in  a  good  cause,  and  with  a  clear  conscience  and  de- 
termined purpose,  is  one  of  the  elements  of  the  higher  life 
and  is  far  removed  from  miserliness.  It  is  a  principle  of 
adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  and  that  any  school  which 


Industry  and  Education  289 

trains  this  power  is  reaching  fundamental  principles  of  the 
practical  life  needs  hardly  to  be  said. 

The  higher  uses  and  appreciation  of  wealth  which  we 
are  wont  to  call  plain  living  and  high  thinking,  the  moral 
idea  of  philanthropy,  the  aesthetic  values  and  hygienic  im- 
plications of  the  right  kind  of  simplicity  must  not  be  omitted 
from  the  educational  idea  of  thrift.  To  impart  something 
of  the  spirit  of  restraint  and  generosity,  and  to  make  the 
child  feel  what  living  simply,  and  with  definite  purpose, 
and  making  means  serve  one's  real  ends  in  life  imply,  to 
teach  the  joys  of  the  higher  uses  of  common  things,  is  no 
mean  achievement.  But  can  we  indeed  do  these  things 
which  after  all  have  their  main  virtue  in  being  general 
and  social,  and  a  part  of  a  program?  All  we  can  say  is 
that  if  we  are  to  have  a  better  order,  and  if  we  think  edu- 
cation has  any  place  in  it,  economy  in  its  broadest  sense,  but 
economy  also  as  applied  to  the  details  of  daily  life  must 
also  have  a  place  in  it.  It  is  both  fatuous  and  insincere 
to  talk  about  good  things  to  come,  and  not  be  willing  to 
pay  the  price  in  labor  and  in  sacrifice  necessary  to  obtain 
them  honestly.  Especially  when  the  price  of  these  things 
is  in  itself  no  demand  for  the  sacrificing  of  any  real  good, 
but  quite  to  the  contrary  is  a  summons  to  a  more  joyous  life, 
we  should  be  glad  to  pay  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NEW    SOCIAL    PROBLEMS 

The  social  problems  of  education  that  have  arisen  be- 
cause of  our  new  world  relations  and  new  internal  condi- 
tions in  our  own  country  are  of  course  only  special  phases 
of  social  education  as  a  whole,  and  social  education  can- 
not indeed  be  separated  sharply  from  other  educational 
questions.  There  are,  however,  new  demands  and  new 
evidences,  and  new  points  of  view  from  which  we  see  social 
education  (or  better,  education  in  its  social  aspects),  in  a 
somewhat  new  and  different  light,  as  compared  with  our 
ideas  of  the  school  in  the  days  before  the  war.  We  have 
discussed  some  of  these  social  problems.  Xow  we  must 
consider  them  both  in  their  general  significance,  and  also 
in  their  more  specifically  pedagogical  aspects. 

There  appear  to  be  two  things  that  social  education  needs 
especially  to  do  now:  create  and  sustain  a  firmer  unity  at 
home  —  a  wider  and  deeper  loyalty  on  the  part  of  the  in- 
dividual to  all  the  causes  and  to  all  the  groups  to  which 
he  is  attached ;  and  to  make  our  zvorld-consciousncss  a  more 
productive  state  of  mind.  It  is  perhaps  because  such  edu- 
cational proposals  as  these  are  generally  left  in  the  form 
of  ideals  and  things  hoped  for  in  a  distant  future,  and 
are  not  examined  to  see  whether  they  may  be  made  defi- 
nite programs,  and  are  legitimate  demands  to  be  made 
now,  that  we  are  likely  to  regard  all  suggestions  of  this 
nature  as  impracticable.  And  yet  the  production  of  morale 
at  home  and  a  social  consciousness  adequate  for  our  new 
relations  abroad  seems  to  be  a  proper  demand  to  make  even 
upon  the  school.     In  part,  of  course,  and  perhaps  largely, 

290 


New  Social  Problems  291 

the  need  is  first  of  all  for  practical  relations,  but  we  must 
consider  educationally  also  the  fundamental  and  creative 
factors  of  the  psychic  process  itself  which  must  in  the  end 
sustain  the  relations  that  we  have  established  at  such  cost 
and  shall  now  begin  to  elaborate  as  practical  functions. 

The  greatest  work  of  social  education  to-day  is  to  in- 
fuse into  all  the  social  relations  a  new  and  more  ardent 
spirit.  It  is  the  elevation  of  the  social  moods  to  a  more 
productive  level,  we  might  say,  that  is  wanted.  ^Esthetic 
elements,  imagination,  and  the  harmonizing  of  individual 
and  social  motives  are  needed.  War  has  shown  us  the  pos- 
sibilities of  exalted  social  moods;  what  we  ought  to  do  now 
is  to  consider  how  we  may  make  our  morale  of  peace  equal 
in  efficiency  and  in  power  to  our  war  morale.  This  is  in 
great  part  a  problem  of  social  education. 

Every  nation  has  its  own  especial  social  problems  which 
must  become  educational  problems,  and  be  dealt  with  in  some 
way  according  to  the  methods  available  in  schools.  In 
England  the  social  questions  seem  to  be  more  in  mind  and 
to  be  better  understood  than  here.  They  are  more  con- 
scious there  of  social  disharmony  and  of  living  a  socially 
divided  life  than  we  are.  They  have  seen  at  close  range 
the  dangers  of  class  interests  and  individual  interests.  In- 
dividualism, class  distinction  and  party  politics  and  the  in- 
dependence of  labor  came  near  proving  the  ruin  of  Eng- 
land. The  Bishop  of  Oxford  has  expressed  himself  as  be- 
lieving that  the  blank  stupid  conservatism  of  his  country,  as 
he  calls  it,  is  really  broken  and  that  a  new  sense  of  service 
is  actually  dawning  in  all  directions.  Trotter  says  (and  he 
too  is  thinking  of  England)  that  a  very  small  amount 
of  conscious  and  authoritative  direction,  a  little  sacrifice 
of  privilege,  a  slight  relaxation  in  the  vast  inhumanity  of 
the  social  machine  might  at  the  right  moment  have  made  a 
profound  effect  in  the  national  spirit.  Generalizing,  and 
now  thinking  of  social  phenomena  in  terms  of  the  psy- 
chology of  the  herd,  he  says  that  the  trouble  in  modern 


292  Tlic  Psychology  of  Nations 

society  is  that  capacity  for  individual  reaction  —  that  is 
for  making  different  reactions  to  the  same  stimuUis  —  has 
far  outstripped  the  capacity  for  intercommunication.  So- 
ciety has  grown  in  complexity  and  strength,  but  it  has  also 
grown  in  disorder. 

Such  disharmony  of  the  social  life  of  course  exists  also  in 
America.  We  have  not  the  sharp  division  of  classes  and 
interests  and  the  demonstrative  and  protesting  individualism 
that  are  to  be  found  in  England  (our  individual  rights  are 
taken  more  for  granted  perhaps)  but  for  that  very  reason,  it 
may  well  be,  our  disharmonies  are  all  the  more  dangerous 
and  difficult  to  overcome.  The  tension  of  the  individual  and 
the  social  will  (using  MacCurdy's  expression)  is  great. 
We  are  highly  individualistic  in  our  mode  of  life,  as  is 
shown  both  in  domestic  and  in  public  affairs.  Specializa- 
tion and  an  intense  interest  in  occupations  that  bring  in- 
dividual distinction  and  large  financial  returns  have  cer- 
tainly taken  precedence  over  the  more  fundamental  and 
common  activities  and  interests. 

It  is  these  fundamental  and  common  activities  and  in- 
terests and  s}nTipathies  that  ought  to  be  the  chief  concern  of 
social  education,  or  perhaps  we  had  better  say  that  all 
our  educational  processes  ought  so  to  be  socialized  as  to 
broaden  sympathies  and  make  activities  common.  Educa- 
tion must  constantly  strive  to  make  the  common  back- 
ground of  our  national  life  more  firm  and  strong.  More 
important  to-day  than  any  further  education  in  the  direc- 
tion of  specialization  of  life  in  America  is  the  securing 
of  a  strong  cohesion  throughout  society  by  means  of  com- 
mon interests  and  moods.  It  is  true  that  specialization  car- 
ried out  in  some  ideal  way  may  provide  just  the  condi- 
tions needed  for  the  best  social  order,  but  this  can  be  only 
in  so  far  as  individuals  become  specialized  within  the  whole 
of  society,  so  to  speak,  in  which  individuals  continue  to  have 
a  common  life.  Individuals  as  wholes  must  not  be  dif- 
ferentiated and  left  to  find  their  own  means  of  coordina- 


New  Social  Problems  293 

tion  and  association,  or  be  brought  together  artificially  by 
law  or  convention.  Specialization  must  be  made  the  re- 
verse side,  as  it  were,  of  a  social  process  in  which  at  every 
point  coordination  is  also  provided  for.  At  the  present 
time,  it  is  the  latter  rather  than  the  former  that  is  of  most 
importance  to  us. 

Social  education  in  a  democratic  country  must  always 
be  a  matter  of  the  greatest  concern.  In  autocratic  socie- 
ties the  cohesive  force  exists  in  traditions  or  can  at  any 
moment  be  generated  executively.  The  autocratic  country 
can  be  held  together  in  spite  of  social  antagonism.  In  a 
democracy  this  cannot  be.  We  voluntarily  accept  some 
degree  of  incoordination  and  confusion  for  the  sake  of 
our  ideals  of  freedom.  We  do  not  wish  cohesion  based 
upon  any  form  of  pessimism  or  fear — fear  of  enemies 
without  or  of  powers  within.  To  secure  unity  in  our  own 
national  life  we  must  work  for  it  incessantly,  and  we  ought 
to  be  willing  to,  for  unity  means  so  much  to  us.  It  is  not 
cohesion  at  any  price  that  we  want,  but  voluntary  and 
natural  union,  and  to  secure  that  we  should  not  hesitate 
to  make  our  educational  institutions  broad  enough  to  in- 
clude the  education  of  the  most  fundamental  relations  of  the 
individual  to  society.  We  want  neither  a  "  healthy  egoism  " 
nor  a  morbid  self-denying  spirit  that  is  only  a  step  re- 
moved from  slavery  —  neither  instinctive  independence  nor 
an  artificial  and  enforced  social  organization.  We  must  not 
be  deceived  either  by  a  vague  and  false  idea  of  liberty  or 
by  the  equally  vicious  ideal  of  militarism  with  its  super- 
ficiality of  social  relations  and  its  pedagogical  simplicity. 
Both  these  ideas  represent  social  life  on  a  low  plane. 
Healthy  individualism,  even  with  its  strong  sense  of  toler- 
ance and  comradeship  and  its  respect  for  law  and  order,  is 
not  the  kind  of  social  ideal  that  we  should  now  cultivate, 
for  it  is  too  primitive  a  state  to  fit  into  our  already  complex 
social  life,  or  to  be  a  basis  for  the  firm  solidarity  we  need 
for  the  future.     As  for  militarism,  it  may  become  a  mere 


294  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

shell,  giving  the  appearance  of  social  unity  when  its  bonds 
are  mere  shreds  and  the  last  drop  of  moral  vitality  has 
gone  out  of  it. 

Our  need  and  problem  are  plain  enough.  We  wish  to 
develop  social  cohesion  and  unity  upon  a  natural  and  perma- 
nent basis  of  social  feeling  expressed  in,  and  in  turn  pro- 
duced by,  social  organization,  voluntarily  entered  into  for 
practical  and  for  ideal  purposes.  Such  solidarity  can 
neither  be  made  nor  unmade  by  external  forces.  We  must 
form  and  sustain  it  by  creating  internal  bonds.  We  live, 
in  any  great  society,  always  over  smoldering  fires,  however 
highly  civilized  the  society,  and  we  are  always  threatened 
with  the  eruption  of  volcanic  forces.  It  is  fatuous  to 
ignore  this,  and  to  make  a  fool's  paradise  of  our  democracy. 
Our  problem  is  to  produce  such  a  social  life  as  shall  keep  us 
safe  through  all  dangers  —  dangers  from  enemies  without, 
and  within,  and  underneath.  A  democracy,  or  indeed  any 
society  after  all  and  at  its  best,  contains  the  makings  of 
the  crowd  and  the  mob.  Organized  as  it  is,  it  is  always 
an  order  made  of  material  units  which  may  enter  into  dis- 
order. Society  is  based  upon  social  consciousness,  upon 
the  consciousness  of  kind,  but  it  also  has  collective  force. 
The  crowd  and  the  collective  force  are  always  contained  in 
society.  However  far  human  nature  is  removed  from  its 
primitive  form,  the  social  order  is  always  fragile.  Mental 
operations  that  are  not  intelligent  and  are  not  emotional  in 
the  ordinary  sense,  but  which  consist,  so  to  speak,  of  com- 
mon factors  among  primitive  feelings,  may  gain  and  for 
a  time  hold  the  ascendancy.  Eruptions  in  the  social  con- 
sciousness are  of  the  nature  of  morbid  phenomena,  and 
are  rare  and  exceptional  expressions  of  the  collective  life, 
but  we  are  never  free  entirely  from  the  menace  of  them. 
Social  order,  we  say,  is  always  fragile.  We  must  not  over- 
look that  fact.  It  is  this  characteristic  of  the  social  life, 
the  potentiality  of  mob  spirit  and  the  forces  of  primitive 


New  Social  Problems  295 

anger  anj  fear,  that  lead  some  writers  to  think,  wrongly 
we  believe,  that  this  is  the  psychological  basis  of  wars  in 
general.  War  comes  out  of  the  order  of  society.  The 
higher  ecstatic  states  and  the  ideals  of  man  enter  into 
them.  These  things  we  speak  of  are  of  the  nature  of  dis- 
order, or  are  only  the  order  of  pure  momentum.  But  what- 
ever the  truth  may  be  about  the  relation  of  instinct  to  war 
and  however  remote  the  dangers  to  ourselves  from  the 
forces  which  in  society  make  for  disorder,  it  is  the  work 
of  social  education  to  control,  transform  and  utilize  all 
social  and  collective  forces,  the  primitive  emotions  and  in- 
stincts, the  moods  of  intoxication  and  all  the  higher  ecsta- 
sies of  the  social  life,  and  it  is  only,  we  suppose,  by  thus 
consciously  and  with  premeditation  controlling  these  forces 
that  in  any  real  sense  we  can  "  make  democracy  safe  for 
the  world." 

It  is  the  idea  of  society  coordinated  by  intelligence  and 
by  common  interests  and  moods  that  we  must  always 
hold  before  us.  Trotter  says  that  civilization  has  never 
brought  a  well-coordinated  society,  and  that  a  gregarious 
unit  consciously  directed  would  be  a  new  type  of  biological 
organism.  If  this  be  so,  the  time  seems  peculiarly  ripe  to 
make  advance  toward  this  better  social  solidarity.  Both  the 
promise  and  the  need  seem  greatest  in  the  great  English 
speaking  countries  now.  There  is  waiting,  we  may  truly 
think,  a  larger  sphere  of  life  for  all  democratic  countries. 
If  it  be  conscious  direction  alone  that  can  bring  about  the 
change,  education  has  a  long  and  a  hard  task  before  it,  to 
make  the  democratic  peoples  capable  of  such  conscious  di- 
rection. This  must  come  in  part  by  the  development  of  the 
idea  of  leadership,  and  by  the  production  of  all  the  condi- 
tions that  make  leadership  possible.  In  part  it  must  come 
by  the  clear  perception  of  definite  tasks  to  be  performed 
by  nations  and  by  all  organizations  within  nations  —  tasks 
which  have  all  grown  out  of  the  relations  existing  within 


2()6  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

society.  In  part  it  means  cultivatinj^  intelligent  apprecia- 
tion of  social  values,  and  developing  in  every  possible  way  all 
the  social  powers. 

What  we  appear  to  need  most  in  our  social  education 
just  now  is  a  conception  of  what  the  individual  is  and 
what  the  social  life  is  in  terms  of  the  desires  and  the  func- 
tions they  embody.  These  are  the  raw  materials  with  which 
we  work.  We  should  then  treat  all  our  social  problems 
in  a  somewhat  different  way  from  that  in  which  they  are 
mainly  dealt  with  now.  We  should  try  especially  to  make 
harmony  in  society  not  by  maneuvering  so  that  we  might 
have  peace  and  good  feeling  for  their  own  sakes,  but  by  co- 
ordinating the  functions  which  are  expressed  in  the  life  of 
the  individual  and  in  all  social  relations.  That  is  precisely 
what  is  not  being  done  now,  in  our  present  stage  of  society, 
either  in  the  life  of  the  individual,  or  in  the  wdder  life  of 
society.  People  live  without  deep  continuity  in  their  lives, 
and  we  are  not  conscious  enough  of  the  ideal  relationships 
individuals  should  have  with  one  another,  in  order  to 
make  the  social  life  productive.  In  a  word  we  do  not  suffi- 
ciently take  account  of  the  purposes  to  be  achieved,  but  are 
too  conscious  of  states  of  feeling.  We  do  not  yet  appear 
to  see  all  the  possibilities  contained  in  the  social  life,  what 
voluntary  unions  are  necessary,  and  what  kind  of  community 
life  must  be  developed  before  we  can  have  a  really  demo- 
cratic order. 

We  must  not  be  content,  certainly,  with  a  merely  super- 
ficial and  external  solidarity  or  the  purely  practical  gre- 
gariousness  of  the  shops  or  the  artificial  forms  of  the  con- 
ventional social  life.  Society  must  more  and  more  accom- 
plish results  by  the  social  life.  Coordination  in  the  per- 
formance of  a  few  obvious  functions,  and  enthusiasm  for  a 
few  partisan  causes,  will  not  be  enough.  Xor  will  such  or- 
der as  militarism  represents  suffice.  Is  it  not  plain,  indeed, 
that  democracy  must  rest  upon  deeper  and  far  more  com- 
plex coordinations  than  we  have  now.  and  that  social  feel- 


New  Social  Problems  297 

ings  or  moods  must  be  made  more  creative?  It  is  the  desire 
to  accomplish  ends  through  social  organization,  rather  than 
the  desire  to  possess  and  enjoy,  that  must  be  made  to  dom- 
inate it.  To  effect  such  changes  in  the  social  life  must  be 
in  great  part  the  work  of  education. 

Social  education  in  our  present  time  and  conditions  might 
very  well  be  considered  in  terms  of  the  antinomies  which 
exist  in  society.  These  antinomies  represent  the  obstacles 
to  national  unity.  They  stand  for  inhibitions  which  are 
expressed  in  feelings  that  are  wholly  unproductive.  Each 
one  of  them  is  a  measure  of  so  much  waste,  so  much  failure 
and  lack  of  momentum,  so  much  disorder  and  disorganiza- 
tion. A  program  of  social  education,  we  say,  might  be 
based  upon  a  consideration  of  these  antinomies.  It  would 
consider  mainly  how  the  waste  and  obstruction  of  these 
conflicting  purposes  of  the  social  life  might  be  overcome  by 
giving  desires  more  harmonious  and  more  positive  direc- 
tion. A  complete  account  of  social  education  from  this 
standpoint  would  need  to  take  notice  of  many  disharmonies 
now  very  evident  in  our  life  as  a  nation.  Among  them 
would  be  found  sectional  antagonisms,  party  opposition, 
frictions  of  social  classes  and  industrial  classes,  religious 
differences,  disharmony  between  the  sexes,  racial  antipa- 
thies. Some  of  these  we  have  already  touched  upon  briefly. 
Some  others  seem  to  require  further  mention  in  the  pres- 
ent connection. 

The  lack  of  understanding  and  sympathy  between  lower 
and  upper  classes  in  society  plays  a  larger  part  in  democratic 
America  than  we  are  usually  inclined  to  admit.  There  are 
divided  interests,  divergent  mores,  lack  of  unity  and  co- 
ordination in  some  of  the  most  urgent  duties  because  of  the 
antagonism  of  classes  and  the  lack  of  understanding,  on  the 
part  of  one,  of  the  ways  of  another.  Especially  in  civic  life 
the  unproductiveness  of  the  situation  is  very  apparent. 
What  money  and  advantage  on  one  side  combined  with  will- 
ing hands  on  the  other  might  do  is  left  undone. 


298  TJic  Psychology   of  Nations 

In  part  this  antagonism  of  classes  is  merely  the  result  of 
difference  in  manners.  There  are  manners  and  forms  that 
constitute  a  common  bond  among  the  members  of  a  class 
everywhere.  Ought  we  not  to  take  advantage  of  this  ex- 
ample and  use  the  suggestion  it  offers  for  bridging  over 
the  differences  that  we  complain  of?  We  have  seen  during 
the  war,  also,  how  well  common  tasks  can  unite  all  classes. 
Does  not  our  educational  institution  afford  us  opportunity  to 
continue  this  advantage,  and  make  common  service  lead 
more  directly  to  understanding  and  appreciation,  not  for  the 
sake  of  the  sympathy  alone,  but  because  of  all  the  practical 
consequences  and  the  opportunities  for  the  future  that  are 
thus  opened  up?  We  assume  that  social  feeling  may  be 
created  through  social  organization.  Mabie  says  that 
America  is  distinguished  by  its  capacities  for  forming  help- 
ful organizations.  We  must  make  the  most  of  this  habit, 
which  presumably  is  derived  from  the  neighborliness  and 
comradeship  of  our  original  colonial  life.  We  need  many 
group  causes,  not  artificially  planned  as  trellises  upon  which 
to  grow  social  feelings,  but,  first  of  all  certainly,  in  order 
to  accomplish  those  things  that  can  be  done  effectively  only 
socially. 

The  secret  of  harmony  among  classes  is  presumably  not 
to  allow  any  class  to  have  vital  interests  which  are  exclu- 
sively its  own.  since  to  have  an  exclusive  vital  interest  means 
of  course  to  live  defensively  or  to  carry  on  offensive  strateg}'. 
The  chief  interest  of  the  great  working  class  at  the  present 
time  is  plainly  to  secure  a  living,  and  it  is  the  sense  of  iso- 
lation in  this  struggle  which  in  part  at  least  is  the  cause  of 
many  unfavorable  conditions  in  our  present  social  order. 
Ought  not  education  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  different  atti- 
tude in  which  all  should  become  vitally  interested  in  the 
economic  problems  of  all?  This  does  not  mean  an  educa- 
tion directed  toward  enlarging  the  spirit  of  philanthropy; 
it  means  mainly  organization  to  serve  common  purposes. 

These   social   problems   are   very   numerous.     They   are 


New  Social  Problems  299 

both  national  and  local.  Any  city  which  will  undertake  to 
solve  in  its  civic  relations  this  problem  of  securing  greater 
social  unity  in  social  causes  will  provide  an  object  lesson 
which  will  be  of  the  greatest  value.  It  is  in  these  local 
groups  perhaps  that  some  of  the  best  experimental  social 
work  may  be  done.  Here  the  educational  and  the  political 
modes  of  attack  can  best  be  coordinated,  results  can  be  made 
most  tangible,  and  the  primitive  and  simple  forms  of  soli- 
darity most  nearly  realized.  It  is  indeed  by  going  back  to 
these  simpler  forms  of  social  life  and  seeking  means  of  co- 
ordinating the  group  in  fundamental  activities  that  the 
greatest  headway  will  be  made  in  the  solution  of  wider 
social  problems. 

Another  of  the  disharmonies  which  social  education  must 
from  now  on  undertake  to  control  is  the  disharmony  and 
the  inequality  of  the  sexes,  not  so  much  as  this  appears  in 
the  domestic  life  as  in  the  broader  relations  of  the  social 
life.  Brinton  says  that  the  ethnic  psychologist  has  no 
sounder  maxim  than  that  uttered  by  Steinthal,  that  the  posi- 
tion of  women  is  the  cardinal  point  of  all  social  relations. 
Every  one,  of  course,  now  recognizes  the  fact  that  the  posi- 
tion of  women  is  to-day  in  a  transitional  and  experimental 
stage.  Conflicting  motives  are  at  work,  and  on  the  part 
of  neither  sex  do  the  highest  motives  seem  to  prevail,  nor 
is  there  a  full  realization  anywhere  of  the  values  that  are 
at  stake.  Men  are  thinking  of  the  question  of  the  position 
of  women  too  much  from  the  standpoint  of  expediency,  and 
are  scrutinizing  too  closely  the  immediate  future.  Women 
perhaps  are  thinking  too  much  just  now  of  their  rights. 
There  is  a  decadent  form  of  chivalry  or  at  least  a  sexuality 
that  perpetuates  conventions  and  interests  that  on  the  whole 
seem  to  interfere  with  progress.  Jealousy  and  in  general 
the  tense  emotional  relations  between  the  sexes  obscure 
larger  issues.  Thus  misunderstanding  or  antagonism,  or  at 
least  disharmony,  prevails  in  relations  in  which  there  should 
be  perfect  harmony  of  ideals  and  purposes,  and  productive 


300  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

activities  of  the  highest  nature.  The  education  of  women, 
whether  for  the  domestic  hfe  or  for  the  life  outside  the 
home  is  plainly  but  a  part  of  the  educational  problem.  The 
sexes  have  different  desires,  and  it  is  precisely  the  work  of 
harmonizing  these  desires,  and  regulating  and  coordinating 
activities  and  functions,  that  is  the  most  important  part  of 
social  education  in  regard  to  the  sexes. 

It  is  not  at  all  difficult  to  see  what  the  basic  need  is. 
It  is  not  so  easy  to  find  practical  means  of  applying  the 
remedy  in  the  form  of  education,  because  the  whole  system 
of  living  of  the  sexes  must  in  some  way  be  affected.  The 
generalized  principle  on  the  practical  side  seems  clear.  All 
classes  or  groups  in  society  must  learn  to  think  and  to  act 
not  in  terms  of  and  with  reference  to  the  desires  of  their 
class  alone,  but  with  regard  to  wider  tasks  and  values  that 
are  not  fully  realized  by  the  most  natural  and  the  conven- 
tional activities  of  the  class.  The  question  is  not  one  of 
making  a  moral  change  —  converting  individuals  or  classes 
from  a  spirit  of  selfishness  to  that  of  altruism.  What  we 
need  is  an  educational  process  and  a  social  life  in  which 
the  nature  of  the  individual  and  of  the  class  is  revealed  as 
social,  as  best  represented  and  satisfied  in  situations  in  which 
both  the  individual  and  the  wider  social  idea  work  together. 

Practically,  we  should  say,  the  problem  of  education  of 
the  sexes  with  reference  to  one  another  and  to  a  wider  social 
life  consists  first  of  all  in  actually  educating  them  together 
not  merely  in  juxtaposition  but  in  relations  of  a  practical 
character.  The  relations  of  the  sexes  have  evidently  been 
mainly  domestic  and  emotional,  or  in  cases  where  they  are 
practical  the  position  of  women  has  been  little  better  than 
servitude.  Of  social  coordination  there  has  been  little. 
Education  of  the  sexes  through  situations  in  zchicJi  the  spe- 
cial abilities  of  each  sex  are  brought  into  action,  doing  for 
the  wider  social  life  what  the  natural  and  instinctive  differ- 
entiation of  activities  has  accomplished  in  its  way  for  the 
domestic  life  seems  to  be  the  main  principle  now  to  be  em- 


New  Social  Problems  301 

ployed  in  the  education  of  the  sexes.  Women  must  be  made 
to  see  that  the  ideal  of  independence  which  is  uppermost  at 
the  present  time  is  only  the  mark  of  a  transitional  stage,  and 
that  coordination  in  which  of  course  competition  of  vari- 
ous kinds  cannot  be  entirely  eliminated  will  be  the  final  ad- 
justment. We  should  have  no  fear  of  placing  the  sexes, 
in  their  educational  situations,  in  positions  where  competi- 
tion is  necessary,  since  through  competition  fundamental 
desires  may  be  brought  to  the  surface  and  regulated.  Pro- 
vided we  admit  at  all  that  a  new  social  adjustment  is  needed 
between  the  sexes,  we  can  hardly  fail  to  see  that  it  is  pri- 
marily in  a  practical  life  lived  together  that  both  education 
for  the  new  order  will  best  be  conducted  and  the  new  order 
itself  realized. 

The  details  of  method  of  what  we  have  called  social  edu- 
cation for  democracy  we  can  only  suggest  here  and  of 
course  in  a  very  imperfect  and  tentative  way.  All  aspects 
of  education  and  every  department  of  the  school  are  in- 
volved; and  every  available  method  employed  in  education 
must  in  some  way  be  turned  to  the  purpose  of  developing 
social  relations.  In  a  very  general  way  we  think  of  these 
specific  processes  of  the  school  as  methods  of  learning, 
methods  of  art,  and  methods  of  activity,  although  of  course 
in  reality  there  can  be  no  such  sharp  separation  of  them  as 
this  might  imply. 

There  must  be  some  place  in  the  school  now  for  a  subject 
which  in  a  general  way  might  be  designated  as  social  history. 
We  must  teach  the  whole  story  of  the  social  life  of  our  coun- 
try in  such  a  way  as  to  reveal  the  motives  of  classes,  parties, 
sections,  and  of  all  organizations,  institutions  and  princi- 
ples. Such  teaching  should  have  the  effect  of  bringing  to 
light  the  causes  of  the  disharmonies  of  society,  and  it  should 
also  be  a  means  of  conveying  the  feelings  and  moods  as 
well  as  the  ideas  that  govern  the  conduct  of  all  groups  that 
make  up  our  national  life.  We  must  teach  sympathetically 
what  the  desires  and  intentions  of  all  are,  on  the  assumption 


302  TJic   Psychology   of  Nations 

that  behind  all  conduct  there  are  natural  causes  and  essen- 
tially sound  instincts.  By  showing  the  desires  of  groups  in 
their  relation  to  one  another,  their  disharmony  and  their 
possible  harmony,  we  indicate  what  society  as  a  functioning 
whole  may  be,  and  we  may  say  that  it  is  the  chief  end  to  be 
gained  by  the  intellectual  treatment  of  the  social  life  to 
make  clear  what  the  ideal  of  social  unity  for  practical  life 
is,  and  what  the  main  obstacles  are  that  now  stand  in  the 
way  of  it.  By  this  social  history  we  do  not  mean,  moreover, 
something  abstruse  and  academic  suited  for  the  college 
alone.  Wherever  the  social  antagonism  is  experienced,  at 
whatever  age,  there  is  the  opportunity  to  begin  to  set  the 
mind  at  work  about  it,  and  to  prevent  the  formation  of 
prejudice  and  resentment.  These  states  of  mind  begin  very 
early  indeed,  and  they  are  hard  to  eradicate. 

A  very  large  part  in  the  work  of  social  education  is  played 
by  methods  of  education  that  we  may  call  aesthetic.  This 
must  mean  not  only  the  inclusion  of  the  methods  of  art  in 
presenting  facts,  but  we  must  bring  to  bear  all  kinds  of 
nssthetic  influences  upon  the  social  life.  Social  life  in  which 
there  is  introduced  the  dramatic  moment  is  one  of  the  main 
objectives  of  all  education.  It  is  in  the  recreational  life 
that  some  of  the  best  conditions  for  the  realization  of  social 
moods  in  dramatic  or  aesthetic  form  are  obtained.  In  the 
recreational  experience  the  social  states  must  be  made  pro- 
ductive of  social  harmony,  as  they  themselves  tend  to  be. 
In  these  experiences  the  conflicting  motives  of  the  individual 
and  society,  and  of  individual  with  individual,  and  the  op- 
posing desires  of  the  individual  are  harmonized  by  means 
of  ideal  experiences  in  which  the  desires  are  exploited. 
Since  we  here  touch  upon  the  whole  theory  of  the  aesthetic 
in  its  practical  application,  we  cannot  be  very  explicit  and 
clear,  but  the  main  service  of  the  aesthetic  social  life  ex- 
perienced typically  in  the  form  of  recreational  activities, 
ought  to  be  plain.     Recreation  is  a  means  of  giving  the 


New  Social  Problems  303 

common  experience  so  much  needed  in  democratic  countries 
like  our  own  —  common  feelings,  common  activities  and 
interests.  This  store  of  common  life,  containing  exalted 
social  feelings,  expressed  in  play  and  art  —  languages  which 
all  nationalities  can  understand  —  must  constantly  be  in- 
creased. All  institutions  that  control  the  leisure  hours  of 
the  people  must  be  made  educational  as  means  of  raising 
the  social  life  to  a  higher  level  and  making  it  more  har- 
monious and  productive  of  common  interests.  It  is  indeed 
one  of  the  functions  of  the  recreational  activities  and  insti- 
tutions to  create  and  sustain  public  morale. 

In  the  recreational  experiences  under  control  of  the  school 
we  have  the  opportunity  to  educate  the  deepest  and  most 
powerful  of  motives.  Play  and  art  we  should  suppose, 
therefore,  ought  to  have  a  greater  part  and  more  serious 
recognition  in  the  school.  We  cannot  of  course  accom- 
plish much  merely  by  crowding  more  arts  and  plays  and 
games  into  the  curriculum.  It  is  something  larger  and 
more  transforming  that  is  wanted.  We  need  to  make  the 
school  take  a  greater  place  in  the  life  of  the  child;  it  must 
reach  a  deeper  level  of  human  nature,  in  which  the  motives 
of  play  and  art  lie,  and  there  must  be  a  broader  exposure 
of  all  young  life  to  those  influences  of  the  social  life  every- 
where which  contain  our  highest  social  ideals.  The  place 
of  art  and  to  some  extent  of  play  as  the  methods  and  the 
spirit  of  the  school  is  to  convey  persuasively  to  the  child 
this  larger  and  better  life  in  which  we  expect  him  to  take 
part. 

Neither  erudition  nor  art  nor  both  together  can,  of  course, 
fulfill  all  the  requirements  for  a  social  education  suited  to 
our  present  needs.  It  is  presumably  in  the  social  life  itself, 
in  the  form  of  a  practical  activity,  that  social  education  will 
in  great  part  be  gained.  This  educational  social  life,  which 
is  also  practical,  will,  however,  be  one  in  which  every  oppor- 
tunity is  taken  to  show  the  social  life  in  its  historical  per- 


304  The  Psychology   of  iWalions 

spective,  and  to  make  clear  its  purposes  and  meaning;  and 
in  which  sympathetic  moods  and  intense  social  states  are 
realized  by  conducting  this  social  life,  so  far  as  possible,  so 
that  it  will  be  subjected  to  the  influences  of  what  we  may  call 
in  a  broad  way  art. 


X 

RELIGION    AND    EDUCATION    AFTER   THE    WAR 

The  war,  which  has  left  no  field  of  human  interest  un- 
touched, has  raised  many  questions  about  religion  that  must 
be  dealt  with  in  new  ways  —  about  its  validity,  its  power, 
its  future.  The  impression  the  whole  experience  of  the  war 
seems  to  convey  is  that  religion  has  failed  to  be  either  a 
great  creative  force  or  a  great  restraining  power,  although 
to  express  this  as  a  failure  of  religion  may  imply  more  than 
we  have  a  right  to  expect  of  it.  Religion  did  not  cause  the 
war,  but  it  certainly  did  not  prevent  it.  It  had  no  power 
to  make  peace.  Yet  we  see  that  now  religion  is  needed  more 
than  ever,  and  that  if  the  social  life  be  not  deeply  infused 
with  the  religious  spirit,  and  if  we  do  not  live  as  a  world 
more  in  the  religious  spirit,  something  fundamental  and 
necessary  will  be  wanting  which  may  be  the  most  essential 
factor  of  progress  and  civilization.  The  war  leaves  us  with 
the  feeling,  perhaps,  that  until  now  the  world  has  had  far 
too  many  religions  and  too  little  religion.  There  has  been 
too  much  of  creed  and  too  little  of  deep  and  sustaining  re- 
ligious moods.  Perhaps,  as  Russell  says,  we  are  to  be  con- 
vinced that  religion  has  been  too  professional ;  there  has 
been  too  much  paid  service,  and  too  little  voluntary  service. 
Such  conclusions  of  course  have  in  them  all  the  reserva- 
tion that  personal  reactions  must  have,  but  it  is  easy  to  be- 
lieve that  in  the  life  of  such  a  nation  as  our  own,  and  in- 
deed in  the  world,  no  practical  unity  will  ever  be  permanently 
reached  unless  there  be  a  firm  basis  in  a  common  religious 
foundation.  This  w-e  might  say  is  made  probable  by  the 
truth  that  religion  is  the  most  fundamental  thing  in  life,  and 

30s 


3o6  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

if  there  be  no  unity  and  common  understanding  in  that 
sphere,  there  can  be  none  in  reality  anywhere  in  Hfe.  Dif- 
ferences in  creed  mean  little,  except  in  so  far  as  they  con- 
ceal basic  agreement  and  make  artificial  barriers;  differences 
in  the  way  of  understanding  and  valuing  the  world  mean 
everything.  We  want  a  common  religious  faith  —  common 
in  the  possession  at  least  of  the  moods  which  make  a  har- 
monious social  life  possible,  and  of  the  spirit  in  which  the 
world's  work  can,  we  may  believe,  alone  be  done. 

Upon  such  grounds  one  might  maintain  that  a  very  im- 
portant part  of  the  work  of  education  everywhere  is  to  teach 
now  more  natural  religion,  or  rather  perhaps  that  the  school 
must  be  everyzvhere  conducted  to  a  greater  extent  in  the 
spirit  of  religion.  Then  we  might  hope  to  see  religion  be- 
coming actually  a  power  in  the  social  life,  helping  to  trans- 
form the  crude  forces  and  purposes  of  the  day  into  higher 
ones.  With  such  a  religious  basis  we  might  begin  to  see 
the  working  of  God  in  history  and  in  the  world  as  a  whole, 
and  we  should  feel  in  the  history  of  the  world  and  in  the 
world  that  is  before  us  the  presence  of  reality.  Then  we 
should  have  a  common  ground  for  the  sympathy  and  under- 
standing without  which  not  even  the  most  practical  affairs 
can  be  conducted  efficiently.  That  ideal  in  education,  often 
expressed  by  the  educator,  which  holds  that  the  purpose  of 
all  teaching  is  to  convey  the  meaning  of  the  world  to  the 
child,  to  make  the  world  live  in  epitome,  so  to  speak,  in  the 
soul  of  every  child,  is  religious  and  nothing  else,  and  quite 
satisfies  the  demands  of  our  present  day. 

If  such  a  standpoint  be  the  right  one,  certainly  the  ambi- 
tion of  any  nation  (or  indeed  of  any  group)  to  have  a  re- 
ligion peculiar  to  itself  and  an  outgrowth  of  its  own  culture 
is  unfortunate,  and  indeed  comes  from  the  very  essence  of 
morbid  nationalism.  In  such  desires  there  is  thinly  veiled 
the  hope  that  through  religion  the  old  claim  of  nations  to 
the  right  to  temporal  supremacy  may  be  vindicated.  La- 
garde,  in  about  1874,  was  probably  the  first  to  say  that 


Religion  and  Education  After  the  War        307 

Germany  must  have  a  national  religion,  but  during  the  war 
this  hope  has  been  expressed  again  and  again  —  Germany 
must  have  a  new  religion,  befitting  a  great  independent  peo- 
ple, and  must  no  longer  be  dependent  for  its  religion  upon 
an  old  and  inferior  race.  Whether  this  longing  for  a  new- 
religion  has  not  been  in  reality  a  longing  to  be  upheld  again 
by  the  old  pagan  faith,  which  was  a  fitting  cult  for  the  na- 
tionalistic temper,  with  its  ideal  of  force,  may  justly  be 
asked.  It  is  interesting  to  remember  that  in  Japan  also,  in 
recent  times,  there  has  been  a  demand  for  a  national  religion 
that  should  unite  all  the  creeds  in  one.  That  this  idea  of 
a  national  religion,  as  contrasted  with  an  universal  religion. 
is  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  plain,  and  the 
claim  that  Germany  has  not  been  able  to  understand  the 
key-note  of  Christianity,  as  it  is  revealed  in  humanity  and 
justice,  may  therefore  be  said  to  have  some  foundation  in 
truth. 

Can  we  say  that  the  work  of  education,  in  the  religious 
life,  is  that  of  inculcating  and  extending  Christianity?  It 
might  indeed  so  be  interpreted,  and  with  a  liberal  enough 
understanding  of  Christianity  we  should  say  that  this  is  true. 
But  after  all,  it  is  Christianity  as  the  vehicle  of  certain 
fundamental  religious  moods  and  ideals  that,  from  an  edu- 
cational point  of  view  at  least,  is  of  the  greatest  concern. 
It  is  the  optimistic  mood,  the  ideal  of  justice  and  humanity, 
the  recognition  of  the  worth  of  the  soul  of  the  individual, 
the  ideal  of  service  —  it  is  these  qualities  of  Christianity 
rather  than  its  specific  doctrines  that  we  must  now  empha- 
size in  our  wider  social  life,  and  such  religion  is  natural 
religion,  or  philosophy  or  Christianity  as  we  may  choose  to 
call  it.  Any  experience,  indeed,  that  fosters  such  moods 
and  ideals  has  a  place  in  religious  education.  Who  can 
doubt  that  such  religion  must  henceforth  have  a  large  place 
in  the  world?  It  will  be  the  test  in  the  end  of  the  possi- 
bility of  sincere  internationalism.  Unless  we  can  have  com- 
mon religious  moods  we  can  have  no  universal  morality  that 


3o8  The  Psychology   of  Nations 

is  founded  upon  secure  feeling  and  principles,  and  unless 
we  can  include  the  whole  world  in  our  religion,  we  shall  cer- 
tainly not  be  able  to  include  it  in  any  sincere  way  in  our 
politics. 

No  religion,  finally,  will  be  profound  enough  and  have 
great  enough  power  to  be  thus  a  support  of  a  future  world- 
consciousness  unless  it  be  a  religion  of  feeling  rather  than 
primarily  of  ideas  —  a  religion  in  fact  capable  of  inspiring 
ecstatic  snoods.  And  this  ecstasy  of  feeling  can  never  in 
our  modern  world  be  a  prevailing  quality  of  the  religious 
life  unless  religion  be  something  that  extends  over  all  life 
and  draws  its  power  from  all  the  energies  and  capacities  of 
the  psychic  life.  The  religion  of  our  new  era.  we  may  be 
sure,  if  it  be  in  any  real  sense  a  religion  of  the  world,  will 
not  be  something  apart  from  and  above  other  experiences. 
It  will  be  a  secular  religion  and  a  democratic  religion,  a 
quality  and  spirit  of  life  as  a  w^hole.  Experience  referred 
to  what  we  believe  is  real  and  universal,  and  subjected  sin- 
cerely to  all  the  capacities  and  criteria  of  appreciation  that 
we  possess  is  religious  experience.  Religion,  educationally 
considered,  is  a  means  of  giving  to  life  a  sense  of  reality  and 
of  value.  That  spirit  should  pervade  and  inspire  all  we  do 
in  the  work  of  education. 


CHAPTER  XI 

HUMANISM 

There  has  much  been  said  during  the  war  to  the  effect  that 
the  great  struggle  was  essentially  a  conflict  between  the 
spirit  of  humanism  and  some  principle  or  other  which  was 
conceived  to  be  the  opposite  of  humanism.  Humanism  is 
said  to  be  opposed  to  rationalism,  or  to  nationalism,  or  spe- 
cialization, or  paganism,  or  Germanism  as  a  whole,  hu- 
manism often  being  thought  of  as  the  spirit  of  Greek  or 
Christian  thought  and  philosophy. 

There  is  truth,  we  should  say,  in  these  views.  Humanism 
in  a  broad  sense  emerged  from  all  the  purposes  of  the  war 
as  the  principle  of  the  greater  part  of  the  world,  as  opposed 
to  the  idea  of  Germanism.  This  spirit  of  humanism,  how- 
ever, is  no  single  motive  or  feeling.  It  is  a  complex  mood, 
so  to  speak,  and  it  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  strange  that  it 
has  been  felt  and  described  in  various  ways,  and  that  it  is 
not  yet  clearly  understood.  Humanism  appears  to  be  most 
deeply  felt  as  the  appreciation  of  the  common  and  fundamen- 
tal things  in  human  nature.  It  inclines  toward  the  employ- 
ment of  feeling,  or  at  least  to  subjective  rather  than  to 
purely  objective  principles  in  the  determination  of  funda- 
mental values  in  life.  Humanism  includes  an  interest  in 
personality,  which  is  of  course  the  most  basic  of  the  common 
possessions  of  man,  and  it  is  therefore  interested  in  justice 
and  in  freedom.  Humanism  as  thus  an  appreciation  of 
fundamental  values  in  life  by  feeling  rather  than  by  princi- 
ple, belongs  to  the  deeper  currents  of  life,  those  that  flow 
in  the  subconscious  —  it  is  close  to  instinct,  to  moods,  and 
the  religious  and  the  aesthetic  experiences. 

309 


3IO  The  Psycliology  of  Nations 

The  later  German  philosoj)hy  of  life  we  might  mention  as 
a  denial  of  much  that  humanism  asserts.  Here  we  see  a 
doctrine  of  force,  an  ideal  of  life  based  upon  the  elevation 
of  conscious  will  to  its  first  principle.  If  we  seek  concrete 
contrasts  to  this  anti-humanism  we  might  mention  our  own 
national  life,  governed  by  an  idea  of  free  living,  which  has 
made  possible  the  assimilation  of  many  stocks,  in  a  life  in 
which  common  human  nature  is  regarded  as  the  supreme 
value.  Extreme  specialization,  rational  principles,  objec- 
tive standards  are  watchwords  of  the  plan  of  life  that  is 
most  opposed  to  humanism.  In  this  life  instincts  and  values 
determined  by  feelings  are  brought  out  into  the  clear  light 
of  consciousness  and  are  there  judged  with  reference  to 
their  fitness  to  serve  ends  determined  by  reason.  It  is  all 
noon-day  glare  in  this  rational  consciousness.  Collectivism 
is  based  upon  coercion  and  upon  calculation  of  the  value  of 
order  in  serving  practical  purposes,  themselves  determined 
by  a  theory  of  society,  instead  of  upon  social  feeling  or 
upon  a  natural  process  of  assimilation  of  the  different  and 
the  individual  into  a  common  life.  Specialization  also,  in 
this  philosophy,  is  a  result  of  calculation  rather  than  of 
a  belief  in  the  value  of  the  individual,  and  is  gained  by  the 
sacrifice  of  those  experiences  which,  if  we  hold  to  the  hu- 
manistic ideal,  we  regard  as  essential  to  the  life  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  to  society.  This  calculus  of  values  extends,  of 
course,  into  the  field  of  international  life.  Here  too  con- 
duct is  based  upon  estimation  of  effects,  freedom  is  relative 
to  and  subordinate  to  economic  values.  A  theory  of  the 
state  takes  precedence  over  all  subjective  ethical  principles, 
and  there  must  be  a  disavowal  of  all  native  sentiments  and 
judgments  as  regards  justice  which  issue  from  an  appreci- 
ation of  the  worth  of  personality  and  other  fundamental 
human  values  and  possessions ;  and  all  common  human  senti- 
ments which  would  stand  in  the  way  of  carrying  out  the 
decisions  of  reason  and  state-theory  or  any  political  policy 
must  of  course  also  be  denied. 


Humanism  311 

This  contrast,  however  inadequate  our  analysis  of  the 
spirit  of  humanism  and  its  opposite  may  be,  will  at  least 
show  that  the  idea  of  justice,  which  in  the  humanistic  ideal 
grows  directly  out  of  the  appreciation  of  the  value  of  per- 
sonality is  the  central  practical  principle  of  humanism,  and 
it  is  exactly  as  an  opponent  of  the  idea  of  justice  on  the 
ground  of  its  alleged  weakness,  that  the  rationalistic  or  the 
nationalistic  philosophy  is  best  conceived. 

It  is  upon  this  question  of  justice  that  we  must  take  our 
stand  for  or  against  humanism.  If  we  are  humanists  we 
believe  in  the  rights  of  individuals,  whether  men  or  nations, 
to  their  own  life  and  independence,  which  they  are  entitled 
to  preserve  through  all  forms  of  social  processes.  Justice 
means  recognition  of  the  right  of  individuals  to  perform  all 
their  functions  as  individuals,  and  humanism  is  precisely 
an  appreciation  of  the  values  of  the  individual  as  such  a 
functioning  whole.  If  we  are  humanists  we  believe  that 
this  principle  of  justice,  and  this  feeling  of  justice  ought  to 
be  cultivated  and  made  world-wide.  This  is  the  ideal  of 
equal  rights  to  all  human  values.  Hence  it  is  the  mortal 
enemy  of  all  philosophies  of  life  which  place  any  principle 
above  that  of  justice  and  its  moral  implications,  whether  in 
the  narrower  or  the  wider  social  life.     This  is  humanism. 

There  are  various  ways  of  interpreting  humanism  as  a 
practical  philosophy  or  principle  of  education.  Burnet  says, 
perhaps  not  very  completely  expressing  what  he  means,  that 
the  humanistic  ideal  of  education,  as  contrasted  with  the 
merely  formal,  is  that  the  pupils  should  above  all  be  led  to 
feel  the  meaning  and  worth  of  what  they  are  studying.  We 
should  say  that  the  meaning  of  humanism  in  education  is 
that  the  child  should  understand  and  appreciate  the  mean-' 
ing  and  ivorth  of  all  human  life.  This  requires  that  edu- 
cation should  so  be  conducted  that  the  child  may  learn  to 
see  —  rather  to  feel  and  appreciate  —  the  inner  rather  than 
the  merely  external  nature  of  all  life  that  is  presented  to 
him,    and    in    which    he    participates.     Not    language,    but 


312  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

thought ;  not  history,  but  experience,  is  his  field.  Justice  de- 
pends wholly  upon  an  ability  to  come  upon  reality  in  the 
realm  of  human  nature.  This  implies  n^A  only  intellectual 
penetration,  but  a  form  of  sympathy  which  consists  of  put- 
ting oneself  as  completely  as  possible  into  the  life  of  that 
which  is  studied. 

All  this  means,  it  is  plain,  a  power  in  the  educational  proc- 
ess, a  spirit  and  a  mood  in  all  education  which  we  have  not 
yet  in  any  very  large  measure  attained.  What  is  required 
is  indeed  that  children  should  live  more  intimately  with 
reality,  so  to  speak,  and  that  we  should  not  be  satisfied  when 
they  have  merely  learned  about  it.  We  shall  not  be  con- 
tent, however,  with  an  educational  process  which,  in  ful- 
filling these  requirements  for  more  life,  becomes  merely 
active.  Life  must  also  be  dramatic  and  intense  and  abun- 
dant. All  the  mental  processes  —  the  feelings,  the  intel- 
lectual functions  and  not  the  will  alone  must  participate  in 
this  active  life. 

We  shall  soon  see,  no  doubt,  and  in  fact  we  are  begin- 
ning already  to  see  a  renewed  interest  in  all  the  arguments 
for  and  against  a  humanistic  as  opposed  to  a  scientific  cul- 
ture and  curriculum  for  our  schools.  It  is  the  humanistic 
side  from  which,  it  is  likely,  we  shall  now  hear  the  most 
pleas,  for  the  war  has  ended,  they  say,  in  victory  for  hu- 
manity and  for  humanism  —  hence  for  the  humanities.  It 
is  the  Christian  and  the  Grseco-Roman  civilization  that  has 
prevailed.  Victorious  France,  whose  culture  is  founded 
upon  that  of  the  Greek  and  the  Roman,  has  vindicated  the 
supreme  value  of  that  culture.  On  the  other  hand  we  hear 
that  our  present  age  has  become  an  age  of  science.  If  sci- 
ence has  been  a  factor  in  causing  the  war.  science  has  also 
won  it.  If  industrialism  involved  the  world  in  disaster,  the 
world  will  be  saved  by  more  and  better  work,  more  prac- 
tical living,  wider  organization  for  the  production  of  goods 
and  of  wealth.  Therefore  our  curriculum  must  become 
more  practical.     \\'e  must  have  more  of  business  and  in- 


Humanism  313 

dustry,  more  vocational  training,  more  training  that  sharp- 
ens the  intelHgence. 

There  is  a  truth  which  cannot  be  overlooked  in  the  claim 
of  the  humanists,  but  the  acceptance  of  it  as  it  stands  as  a 
philosophy  of  education  is  not  without  its  serious  dangers. 
What  we  may  well  apprehend  is  a  reactionary  philosophy  of 
education,  and  of  all  culture.  We  begin  to  hear  very  strong 
pleas,  for  example,  for  a  school  in  which  language,  litera- 
ture, and  perhaps  history  become  the  center.  West  ^  asks 
for  a  wider  recognition  of  the  humanities  after  the  war. 
Moore  ^  says  that  the  war  is  a  victory  of  the  civilization 
finally  established  by  the  Romans  on  the  basis  of  law,  over 
the  barbaric  ideas  of  power.  Seeing  this  he  is  led  to  plead 
for  a  closer  union  now  between  Latin  and  modern  studies, 
binding  civilization  of  to-day  with  the  thought  and  feeling 
of  old  Rome.  Butler  ^  says  that  we  are  surely  coming  back 
to  the  classical  languages  and  literature. 

Such  conclusions  as  these  raise  many  questions  and  per- 
haps doubts  and  apprehension.  The  ideal  they  express  of 
penetrating  the  heart  of  civilization  and  experiencing  in 
the  educational  process  the  inner  life  rather  than  the  outer 
form  of  life,  must  indeed  appeal  to  all,  and  we  should  all 
as  humanists  agree  that  this  ideal  expresses  what  humanism 
means  and  is  the  center  of  a  true  philosophy  of  education  — 
but  whether  this  ideal  can  be  realized  by  any  school  that 
clings  to  the  old  classical  learning,  even  in  spirit,  is  quite 
another  matter.  To-day,  if  ever,  we  need  to  go  forward  in 
education.  Our  spirit  must  be  that  of  the  searcher  for  new 
truth,  and  for  a  better  life.  The  old  will  not  satisfy  us 
either  as  a  model  and  ideal  or  as  a  method.  No  already  ac- 
cumulated culture  material  will  be  adequate  for  our  new 
school. 

Our  schools  of  to-morrozv,  zvc  should  conclude,  must  still 
be  inspired  by  the  scientific  spirit,  but  what  -we  need  is  sci- 

1.  2  Educational  Review,  February,  igiQ. 
3  Teachers  College  Record,  January,  1919. 


314  riic  Psychology   of  i\ alions 

ence  humanized ,  and  science  in  the  sen'ice  of  moral  princi- 
ples. One  may  well  ask  whether  it  is  not  now  the  most 
opportune  time  to  leave  our  classical  learning  behind,  and 
try  to  find  a  more  adequate  culture  in  which  to  convey  the 
spirit  of  our  new  humanism.  If  we  have  won  a  victory  for 
humanity,  as  we  think,  and  have  kept  alive  the  Christian 
spirit  by  means  of  a  meager  culture,  we  need  not  still  cling 
to  that  culture  if  we  can  find  something  better.  Even  if 
modern  Germany  has  misused  science  and  brought  it  to  re- 
proach, we  need  not  be  prejudiced  against  science.  We 
need  more  science  but  we  need  to  bring  science  into  closer 
relation  to  the  whole  of  human  life.  \Ve  need  more  of  all 
the  psychological  sciences  as  an  aid  to  our  appreciation  of 
history  as  the  story  and  a  revelation  of  the  meaning  of 
spirit  in  the  world  —  and  it  is  this  way  rather  than  through 
language  that  we  must  undertake  to  know  and  to  explain 
life.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  for  the  business  of  practical, 
social  living  that  the  material  sciences  should  have  most  sig- 
nificance in  education.  There  is  no  science,  not  even  mathe- 
matics, that  cannot  be  taught  as  a  phase  of  the  adventure  of 
spirit  in  the  world,  and  none  that  cannot  in  some  way  be 
made  to  aid  spirit  in  finding  and  keeping  its  true  course  in 
the  future.  Such  use  of  all  culture  is  what  we  mean  by 
humanism.  The  secret  of  the  difTerence  in  the  educational 
ideals  of  those  whom  we  may  call  the  old  humanists  and  the 
new  is  that  to  one  education  means  predominantly  learning, 
and  to  the  other  it  means  mainly  living.  Living,  for  the 
child,  means  growing  into  the  life  of  the  world  by  partici- 
pating in  spirit  and  in  body,  according  to  the  child's  needs 
and  capacities,  in  the  activities  of  the  world.  To  gain  a 
consciousness  of  the  meaning  of  those  activities  through  a 
knowledge  of  their  history  and  by  an  appreciation  of  their 
purpose  is  indeed  the  main  purpose  of  learning. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AESTHETIC    EXPERIENCE    IN    EDUCATION 

Throughout  this  study  we  have  again  and  again  been  led 
to  consider  the  relations  of  the  aesthetic  experiences  to  the 
practical  life.  It  is  as  the  repository  of  deep  desires  and 
as  the  appreciation  of  values  that  the  aesthetic  may  be  most 
readily  seen  to  be  practical,  but  it  performs  other  functions. 
As  ecstatic  experience  it  is  the  source  of  power  in  the  con- 
scious life,  and  it  was  indeed  the  belief  in  art  as  a  means  of 
attaining  power  that  has  given  art  its  place  in  the  world. 
The  aesthetic  experience  is  the  form  also  in  which  desires  are 
brought  into  relation  to  one  another,  harmonized  and  trans- 
formed, or  transferred  to  new  objects.  So  the  aesthetic 
is  the  type  of  adaptation  in  the  inner  life. 

We  have  asserted  that  all  life,  and  certainly  the  educa- 
tional process,  must  have  its  dramatic  moments,  since  the 
dramatic  experience,  as  ecstasy  of  the  social  life,  is  the  ex- 
pression of  social  feeling  in  its  highest  form.  The  aesthetic 
experience  is  the  central  point  of  experience,  so  to  speak,  at 
which  social  ideals  impinge  upon  and  influence  and  mold 
pure  nature.  Art  is  the  form  in  which  play,  representing 
biological  forces,  is  carried  to  a  higher  stage,  and  made  a 
factor  in  conscious  evolution.  The  aesthetic  experience  is 
a  practical  attitude  in  another  way.  It  is  by  our  aesthetic 
appreciation,  more  than  we  commonly  understand,  that  we 
judge  life  as  a  totality,  that  we  estimate  the  fitness  of  its 
parts  to  belong  to  the  whole,  and  that  indeed  we  guide  life 
when  we  judge  it  not  according  to  principles  which  so  often 
are  seen  to  be  inadequate,  but  when  we  try  to  bring  to  bear 

315 


3i6  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

our  utmost  of  powers  of  appreciation  and  to  find  ultimate 
values. 

Such  a  recognition  of  the  relation  of  art  or  the  aesthetic 
to  life  we  see  often  expressed  in  the  literature  of  the  day. 
It  is  a  sign  of  the  times  —  of  an  effort  to  attain  higher 
powers,  to  take  more  comprehensive  views  of  life,  and  to 
gain  deeper  insight  into  it.  It  is  a  phase  of  the  serious- 
ness of  purpose  which  the  war  has  aroused  in  us.  Dide 
speaks  of  a  deep  but  obscure  need  that  drives  all  human 
beings  to  put  themselves  in  harmony  with  the  universal,  and 
says  that  this  is  the  end  and  purpose  of  the  aesthetic  tenden- 
cies. This  phase  of  the  place  of  the  aesthetic  is  seen  and 
expressed  in  various  ways.  Some  think  of  it  as  a  significant 
change  in  the  attitude  of  life  which  is  to  bring  about  an  era 
of  peace.  Clutton-Brook,  an  English  writer,  says  that  un- 
less we  attain  to  some  kind  of  beauty  and  art,  we  shall  have 
no  lasting  peace.  We  shall  never  have  freedom  from  war 
until  we  have  a  peace  that  is  worth  living.  Some  see  in 
the  humanistic  spirit  an  essentially  aesthetic  principle.  The 
fairness  and  justice  of  the  French,  the  spirit  of  the  English 
that  expresses  itself  in  their  ideal  of  sportsmanship,  some 
attribute  to  the  aesthetic  spirit. 

All  this  is  in  keeping  with  our  new  experiences  of  life  in 
all  its  dynamic  expressions.  It  becomes  easier  for  us  to 
see  the  truth  about  the  nature  of  the  aesthetic  and  of  all 
other  powders  of  consciousness,  since  consciousness  has  re- 
vealed itself  to  us  as  itself  so  great  a  power.  The  aesthetic 
experience  may  no  longer  appear  to  be  only  a  joy,  something 
subjective,  but,  indeed,  as  a  practical  force  in  the  world. 
The  aesthetic  is  a  .feeling  of  power,  but  it  is  also  an  experi- 
ence in  which  mental  power  is  generated,  and  it  must  be 
employed  to  such  an  end.  The  aesthetic  mood  is  a  mood 
of  happiness,  but  it  is  also  a  mood  of  persuasion,  in  which 
something  is  being  done  to  the  will,  and  in  which  desires 
are  being  turned  continually  toward  new  objects,  and 
composite  feelings  are  being  formed  which  will  direct  the 


Aesthetic  Experience  in  Education  317 

course  of  future  experience.  So  art  and  the  aesthetic  ex- 
perience are  not  things  apart  from  Hfe,  but  may  even  be 
thought  of  as  the  method  and  the  quahty  of  hfe  in  some 
of  its  most  dynamic  forms.  They  are  not  added  to  hfe  as 
an  ornament  or  a  luxury,  but  are  the  spirit  in  which  Hfe  is 
Hved  when  it  is  indeed  most  productive. 

When  we  make  specific  analyses  of  aesthetic  experience 
we  find  represented  in  it  all  the  deep  motives  and  tendencies, 
of  life.  This  gives  us  our  clew  to  the  practical  application 
of  the  aesthetic  in  the  business  of  life.  All  it  contains,  all 
the  art  and  the  play  of  the  world  must  be  put  to  work,  al- 
though this  is  a  conclusion  that  might  readily  be  misunder- 
stood. We  do  not  expect  to  harness  the  powers  of  child- 
hood to  the  world's  tasks,  or  expect  industry  to  become  fine 
art,  but  we  do  expect  art  and  play  to  be  something  more  than 
passive  and  unproductive  states.  We  expect  them  to  sus- 
tain and  to  create  the  energies  by  which  the  world's  work 
is  to  be  carried  on.  We  would  utilize  them  to  give  more 
power  to  life  at  every  point,  and  to  make  all  activities  of 
the  practical  life  more  free  and  creative.  And  was  there 
ever  a  time  when  power  was  more  greatly  needed  —  in  in- 
dustry, in  political  life  and  in  every  phase  of  life  both  of  the 
individual  and  of  society? 

But  it  is  not  only  in  creating  and  doing  that  the  world 
needs  art  to-day,  in  the  sense  in  which  we  mean  to  define 
it.  An  aroused  world  is  called  upon  to  feel  to  the  depths  of 
reality,  and  to  draw  from  these  depths  new  and  more  pro- 
found valuations.  We  stand  at  a  point  where  many  things 
in  life  must  be  tested  and  judged  anew,  where  the  danger 
of  perverting  and  misjudging  many  things  is  great.  It  is 
by  the  powers  of  appreciation  gained  in  dynamic  states  of 
consciousness,  we  may  believe,  rather  than  by  discoveries 
and  an  accumulation  of  data  that  we  shall  be  most  certain 
of  finding  true  values,  and  the  way  of  extrication  from  our 
present  grave  doubts. 

Can  one  hesitate  to  conclude,  then,  that  in  all  our  edu- 


3i8  Tlic  Psychology   of  iS'alions 

cational  experiences,  we  must  try  not  only  to  train  these 
powers  that  we  call  aesthetic,  but  to  give  opportunity  at  every 
point  for  the  exercise  of  them  as  selective  functions,  and  as 
a  means  of  creating  and  expressing  power  in  the  mental  life  ? 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MOODS    AND    EDUCATION  :    A    REVIEW 

In  the  philosophy  of  education  it  is  with  moods  that  in  our 
view,  we  have  most  of  all  to  deal.  Man,  we  have  a  right 
to  say,  is  a  creature  of  feeling,  not  of  instinct  or  of  reason. 
It  is  not  the  instinct  as  a  definite  reaction  to  stimulus  or  as 
an  inner  necessity,  nor  emotion  as  a  subjective  response  to 
this  stimulus  that  is  the  driving  force  of  conduct,  but  rather 
the  more  lasting  and  deeper  and  more  complex  states  or 
processes  that  we  can  call  by  no  other  name  than  moods. 
Since  it  is  in  the  moods  that  the  most  profound  longing  or 
tendency  or  desire  is  represented,  we  say  that  moods  are 
the  object  of  chief  concern  in  a  practical  philosophy  of  life. 
These  moods  are  the  repositories,  so  to  speak,  of  instinct, 
impulse,  tendency,  desire,  and  it  is  therefore  by  the  control 
and  education  of  moods  that  the  individual  in  all  his  social 
and  in  all  his  personal  aspects  will  be  most  fundamentally 
educable  if  he  is  educable  at  all. 

It  is  as  the  seat  of  the  will  to  power,  we  might  say,  that 
the  moods  which  are  the  main  sources  of  human  energy  are 
to  be  conceived.  The  craving  for  power,  as  a  generaliza- 
tion of  more  primitive  desires,  comes  to  take  the  position 
of  the  main  motive  in  life.  The  craving  for  power  is  a 
desire,  as  we  see  when  we  analyze  it,  that  expresses  itself  as 
a  longing  for  ecstatic  or  intense  states  of  consciousness,  and 
an  abundant  life.  It  is  a  craving  to  be  possessed  by  strong 
desire  and  also  for  the  satisfaction  of  many  desires  —  often 
vicariously,  since  the  objects  desired  may  be  confused  and 
general.  So  this  motive  of  power  and  the  ecstatic  states 
in  which  it  is  expressed  or  realized  is  no  instinct  and  no 

319 


320  Tiic  Psychology   of  i\alions 

pure  emotion.  It  is  an  outgrowth  and  culmination  of  in- 
stincts, a  fusion  of  them  into  a  new  jjroduct. 

It  would  be  going  too  far  afield  to  try  to  summarize  here 
the  psychology  of  moods  or  of  the  motive  of  power  in  the 
individual  and  in  society,  but  the  main  fact  needed  for  the 
moment  seems  plain.  In  this  motive  and  its  expression  in 
feeling  and  conduct  there  is  a  very  general  tendency  which 
is  the  source  of  many  forms  of  interest  and  enthusiasm,  of 
ambition,  of  the  spirit  of  war,  of  various  kinds  of  excite- 
ment, and  to  some  extent  of  morbid  and  criminal  tendencies. 
The  spirit  of  war  we  think  of  as  a  summation  of  the  same 
forces  as  those  which  in  other  ways  appear  as  the  energies 
behind  various  enterprises  having  quite  different  objectives. 
War  is  an  anachronism,  we  may  believe,  a  wrong  direction 
taken  by  the  forces  of  the  social  life,  an  archaic  expression 
now,  let  us  say,  of  the  will  to  power  which  might  and  ought 
to  have  different  objectives.  In  the  life  and  the  mood  of 
the  great  city  we  see  a  very  varied  expression  of  the  motive 
of  power.  The  city  life  is  still  a  crude  life.  It  satisfies 
deep  desires,  but  in  it  desires  for  we  know  not  what  are 
aroused.  It  is  indeed  as  the  seat  of  eager,  unsatisfied  desire 
that  the  city  is  best  of  all  characterized.  These  desires 
readily  take  shape  in  the  city  as  the  spirit  of  war  and  as  a 
craving  for  excitement  of  various  kinds. 

These  same  forces  re-directed  or  finding  different  objects 
and  working  under  different  conditions  appear  in  moral, 
religious,  or  aesthetic  forms.  In  these  higher  experiences 
and  more  progressive  moments  in  history  or  in  the  life  of 
the  individual,  the  forces  which  at  other  levels  emerge  in 
different  forms  and  in  search  of  different  objects  we  may 
think  of  as  transformed,  or  given  new  direction ;  but  to 
suppo-e  them  annihilated  or  suppressed  is  to  misunderstand, 
according  to  our  view\  the  whole  process  of  the  development 
of  spirit.  Life  is  not  a  process  in  which  instincts  are  bal- 
anced, or  in  which  good  motives  stand  in  sharp  contrast  to 
bad  motives,  or  in  which  an  original  selfishness  is  opposed 


Moods  and  Education:  A  Review  321 

and  gradually  overcome  by  an  altruistic  motive.  We  think 
rather  of  very  complex  processes  in  which  many  desires, 
gathered  into  moods,  find  many  forms  of  expression. 
There  are  prevailing  moods  —  of  war  and  of  peace  —  and 
these  moods  are  deep  forces,  containing  both  the  desires 
and  the  sources  of  energy,  so  to  speak,  out  of  which  our 
future  will  be  made.  The  ecstatic  states  of  the  social  life. 
the  moods  of  war  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  periods  of  rapid 
change  are  conditions  in  which  energies  and  purposes  are 
deeply  stirred.  These  are  the  moods  of  intoxication,  if  we 
wish  to  describe  them  by  pointing  out  one  of  their  chief 
common  characteristics.  Peace  is  a  reverie,  we  may  say, 
in  which  the  purposes  and  the  results  expressed  and  attained 
in  the  more  dramatic  moments  are  elaborated  and  fulfilled, 
and  in  which  new  impulse  is  gathered  of  which  the  dramatic 
moment  is  itself  the  expression.  But  throuf^hout  the  whole 
course  of  history  and  through  all  the  life  of  the  individual, 
the  same  motives  are  at  work.  Life  in  its  fundamental 
movements  and  motives,  we  should  argue,  is  both  simple  and 
continuous.  It  is  fragmentary  and  complex  only  on  its 
surface. 

The  whole  problem  of  the  nature  of  education  of  course 
resolves  itself,  from  this  point  of  view,  into  the  question 
whether  progress  is  something  inherent  in  nature,  or  is 
something  controlled  by  man.  Or  if  we  cannot  make  so 
sharp  a  contrast  between  nature  and  will,  shall  we  say  that 
progress  is  in  the  main  and  in  all  essential  ways  one  or  the 
other?  Does  conscious  effort,  the  having  of  ideals,  exert 
any  profound  effect  upon  the  history  of  spirit?  Does  it 
accelerate,  give  direction,  provide  energy?  Is  the  course 
of  history  inevitable  or  is  the  making  of  it  in  our  hands? 
We  can  see  what,  in  a  general  way,  so  far  as  regards  the 
transformation  of  the  fundamental  motives  of  life,  the 
order  of  development  has  been  —  how  the  original  and 
basic  desires  or  instincts  have  become  merged  and  confused 
in  the  more  general  desires  and  moods,  how  the  motive  of 


322  The  Psychology  of  Nations 

power  has  emerged,  finding  so  varied  expression  as  we  see 
in  the  whole  movement  of  art  and  play  in  the  world,  how  out 
of  these  motives  of  art  and  play  more  controlled  enthusiasms 
have  arisen.  But  the  part  in  this  movement  played  by  con- 
scious direction  does  not  thus  far  appear  to  have  been  great. 
A  movement  of  and  within  consciousness  it  has  been,  and 
no  mere  biological  or  physical  development,  but  when  we 
speak  of  conscious  will  or  any  ideals  controlling  the  course 
of  spirit  in  essential  ways,  we  find  as  yet  only  a  beginning. 
And  yet,  this  does  not  indicate  that  in  the  future  conscious 
direction  may  not  be  even  the  greatest  factor  in  evolution. 
It  is  difBcult  to  see  how  we  can  know  with  certainty  that  we 
have  such  powers;  but  to  refrain  from  acting  as  though  we 
had  is  also  difficult,  and  indeed  impossible. 

As  a  working  hypothesis,  at  least,  we  seem  to  be  allowed 
to  assume  that  much  will  depend,  in  the  future,  upon  the 
extent  to  which  conscious  factors  are  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  world's  progress  as  a  whole,  upon  the  form  in  which 
the  w^orld-idea  shapes  itself,  and  the  power  which  is  put 
behind  that  world  idea  by  the  educational  forces  of  the 
world.  The  world  appears  now  to  stand  balanced  at  a  criti- 
cal moment,  its  future  depending  upon  whether  old  ideals 
and  primitive  emotions  shall  prevail,  or  whether  a  new- 
spirit  which  is  perhaps  after  all  but  a  sense  of  direction 
growing  out  of  the  old  order  shall  become  the  dominating 
influences.  Whether  the  consciousness  of  nations  shall  be 
creative  and  progressive  seems  to  depend  now^  upon  the  ex- 
tent to  which  the  whole  life  of  feeling  is  influenced  by  ideas 
which,  although  they  are  products,  as  we  say,  of  the  primi- 
tive biological  processes  that  underlie  history,  are  also  out- 
side these  processes,  as  definite  purposes,  desires,  visions, 
ideals.  At  least  we  seem  to  depend  now  upon  these  supe- 
rior influences  for  many  things  that  we  regard  as  good  — 
for  the  rate  at  which  we  shall  make  progress,  and  for  the 
certainty  of  making  progress  at  all.  Upon  these  conscious 
factors  directing  and  shaping  the  plastic  forces  represented 


Moods  and  Education:  A  Review  323 

in  the  moods  of  our  time,  we  shall  assume,  the  course  of 
history  will  depend. 

We  are  no  longer  to  be  satisfied  with  natural  progress. 
We  have  gone  too  far  and  too  long,  let  us  say,  upon  a  rising 
tide  of  biological  forces,  and  we  have  not  yet  realized  what 
conscious  evolution  might  mean.  We  have  been  too  well 
satisfied  with  the  physical  resources  and  the  psychic  energies 
that  seemed  sufficient  for  the  need  of  the  day.  A  world  in 
which  democracy  is  going  to  prevail  can  no  longer  live  in 
this  way.  It  will  not  grow  of  itself  in  a  state  of  nature. 
Its  principle,  on  the  other  hand,  forbids  program-making 
after  the  manner  of  autocratic  societies.  Democracy,  as 
the  form  in  which  the  youthful  and  exuberant  spirit  of  the 
world  now  makes  ready  for  creating  the  next  stage  of  civili- 
zation, will  advance,  we  may  suppose,  neither  by  nature  nor 
by  force.  It  is  the  main  work  of  our  day  to  find  for  our- 
selves a  new  and  better  mode  of  shaping  history,  by  bringing 
to  bear  upon  all  the  social  motives  of  the  day  the  best  and 
strongest  influences.  Our  whole  situation  is  from  this 
point  of  view  an  educational  problem.  Probably  there  was 
never  a  greater  need  than  that  the  democratic  forces  of  the 
world  now  have  great  leadership.  It  is  a  practical  world, 
a  world  of  politics  and  of  business,  but  it  is  also  a  world 
exceedingly  sensitive  to  many  influences,  good  and  bad,  a 
world  in  which,  we  may  think,  nothing  great  and  permanent 
can  be  accomplished  unless  moral,  religious  and  aesthetic 
influences  prevail  and  give  to  our  civilization  its  new  domi- 
nant. 

It  will  depend  upon  these  conscious  forces  —  upon  our 
efforts  to  make  progress  and  upon  the  clarity  of  our  vision 
—  it  must  depend  upon  these  —  whether  in  the  future  our 
great  war  shall  be  looked  back  upon  as  after  all  an  upheaval 
of  primitive  forces  and  a  debauch  of  instincts,  or  as  the  be- 
ginning of  a  new  life.  It  is  for  us  to  create  out  of  the  war 
the  foundation  of  a  better  order.  We  cannot  go  back  to  the 
old  regime.     Our  enthusiasms  will  either  be  directed  to  bet- 


324  The  Psychology  of  Nal'ions 

tcr  things,  or  the  emotions  aroused  by  the  war  will  run  riot 
and  finally  settle  into  hahils  o\\  a  low  jjlane.  and  destroy,  it 
may  be,  all  that  civilization  has  thus  far  gained.  All  things 
seem  possible,  in  this  critical  time. 

Stated  in  the  broadest  possible  way,  the  educational  prob- 
lem of  our  times  seems  plain.  We  must  lay  hold  upon  and 
set  to  work  for  a  higher  civilization  the  motives  and  pur- 
poses that  in  the  past  have  worked  obstructively,  and  now 
destructively.  A  great  work  of  our  day  is  to  understand 
these  motives  and  forces  that  were  the  main  factors  in  the 
cause  of  the  war,  and  make  them  count  for  progress.  That 
they  are  powerful  forces  we  can  have  no  doubt.  They  are 
not  for  that  reason  hard  to  direct,  at  least  not  necessarily  so. 
We  see  that,  whether  in  war  or  in  peace,  w-e  need  greater 
power  in  the  social  life.  Life  must  be  made  to  satisfy  the 
longing  for  intensity  and  abundance  of  experience.  But 
this  abundant  life  that  we  now  seek  cannot  be  something 
merely  subjective  and  emotional.  To  see  this  is  indeed  the 
crucial  test.  This  subjective  life  cannot  remain  an  ideal 
in  a  world  determined  to  become  democratic,  to  make  prog- 
ress, to  be  a  practical  and  well-coordinated  world.  Abun- 
dant life  must  now  be  sought  in  the  performance  of  func- 
tions which  express  themselves  in  practical  aims  and  conse- 
quences. The  prevailing  mood  and  form  of  this  life  may 
still  be  dramatic,  and  indeed  it  must  be  dramatic.  The  pos- 
session of  this  quality  is  the  test  of  its  power. 

Such  views,  of  course,  imply  that  our  practical  educational 
problem  is  something  very  different  from  that  of  finding  an 
outlet  for  emotions.  For  example,  to  search  for  a  substi- 
tute for  war  now  is  a  superficial  way  of  looking  at  the 
problem  of  the  control  and  education  of  the  social  conscious- 
ness. We  think  of  the  motives  that  have  caused  the  war, 
according  to  these  older  views,  as  bad  instincts  or  evil  emo- 
tions, as  we  are  usually  asked  to  think  of  the  motives  behind 
intemperance,  and  the  habits  of  gambling  and  the  like.  By 
some  form  of  katharsis  we  hope  to  drain  off  these  emotions 


Moods  and  Education:  A  Review  325 

(unless  we  undertake  merely  to  suppress  them).  This  we 
say  is  a  narrow  view  of  the  problem,  merely  because  the 
motives  that  underlie  the  conduct  we  deplore  are  not  had 
instincts,  or  indeed  instincts  as  such  at  all,  but  rather  feel- 
ings or  moods  which  are  variable  in  their  expression,  com- 
plex, and  educable.  They  have  no  definite  object  of  which 
they  are  in  search,  so  that  we  may  think  the  only  way  to 
thwart  them  is  to  find  some  object  closely  resembling  theirs 
which  may  surreptitiously  be  substituted  for  them.  These 
motives  are  indeed  broad  and  general.  We  must  do  with 
them  what  education  must  do  all  along  the  line,  find  the 
fundamental  desires  they  contain  and  utilize  the  energies 
expressed  in  these  desires  in  the  performance  of  functions 
—  these  functions  being  the  purposes  most  fundamentally 
at  work  in  the  social  life  or  representing  our  social  ideals. 
Such  an  ideal  of  education  invites  us  to  work  beneath  the 
political  and  all  formal,  institutional  and  merely  practical 
affairs  and  to  lay  our  foundations  in  the  depths  of  human 
nature.  There  we  shall  begin  to  establish  or  to  lay  hold 
upon  continuity,  and  there  bring  together  the  fragments  of 
purpose  which  we  find  in  the  life  we  seek  to  direct.  This 
which  one  can  so  easily  say  in  a  sentence  is,  of  course,  the 
whole  problem  of  education.  These  things  are  what  we 
must  work  for  in  establishing  and  sustaining  our  democracy, 
for  we  must,  to  this  end,  make  forces  work  together,  in- 
stead of  separately  and  antagonistically  as  they  themselves 
tend  to  do.  It  is  the  same  problem,  at  heart,  in  the  edu- 
cation of  the  individual  —  to  harmonize  desires,  and  to 
create  a  higher  synthesis  of  energies  than  nature  itself  will 
yield.  And  in  the  new  and  wider  field  of  international  life 
that  opens  up  before  us,  the  problem  is  still  educational. 
The  educational  forces  of  the  world  must  begin  now  the 
gigantic  task  of  national  character  building.  The  spirit  of 
the  nations,  the  divergent  motives  of  power,  of  glory,  of 
comfort  and  pleasure-seeking  that  are  said  to  dominate  na- 
tions, the  justice,  and  loyalty,  and  steadfastness  and  truth 


326  llw  Psychology   of  Nations 

which  at  least  they  put  upon  their  banners  and  into  their 
songs  must  be  made  to  work  together  in  a  practical  and 
progressive  world,  or  to  make  such  a  world  possible. 

'1  he  Germans  like  to  interpret  the  tricolor  of  their  flag  as 
signifying  Diirch  Naclit  iind  Blut  cur  Licht.  But  plainly 
the  night  and  bloodshed  do  not  always  lead  to  light,  and  of 
themselves  they  cannot.  Nor,  must  we  think,  need  the 
world  continue  always  to  seek  its  way  toward  light  only 
through  the  blackness  and  guilt  of  wars  and  revolutions. 
In  some  distant  day,  let  us  think,  justice  and  morality  will 
have  been  bred  into  all  the  social  life,  and  life  will  be  lived 
more  in  the  spirit  of  art  and  religion.  Then  they  will  see 
that,  under  the  influence  of  these  forces  we  call  now  edu- 
cational, an  old  order  will  have  given  way  to  a  new  by  im- 
perceptible degrees,  and  it  will  be  no  longer  through  dark- 
ness and  bloodshed  that  the  world  must  make  its  way  to 
light,  but  need  only  go  through  light  to  greater  light. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  following  list  contains  the  titles  of  a  few  books  and 
articles  that  have  contributed  data  or  suggestions  to  this 
study.  It  is  neither  complete  nor  systematic.  Numbers  in 
the  text  refer  to  this  list. 

1.  A.  W.  Small,  General  Sociology. 

2.  C.  Andler,  Fright  fulness  in  Theory  and  Practice. 

3.  W.  E.  Walling,  The  Sociologists  and  the  War. 

4.  H.  Hauser,  Germany's  Commercial  Grip  of  the  World. 

5.  J.  F.  O'Ryan  and  W.  D.  A.  Anderson,  The  Modern  Army  in 

Action. 

6.  R.  Dunn,  Five  Fronts. 

7.  Mrs.  Henry  Hobhouse,  I  Appeal  Unto  Caesar. 

8.  F.  H.  Giddings,  The  Western  Hemisphere  in  the  World  of 

To-morrow. 

9.  O.  H.  Kahn,  Prussianized  Germany. 
ID.  C.  Mitchell,  Evolution  and  the  War. 

11.  A.  Wehrmann,  Deutsche  Aufsaetze  Ueber  den  Weltkrieg,  etc. 

12.  J.  P.  Bang,  Hurrah  and  Hallelujah. 

13.  E.  Boutroux,  Philosophy  and  the  War. 

14.  M.  A.  Morrison,  Sidelights  on  Germany. 

15.  R.    Lehmann,    Was    1st    Deutsch?     (In    Vom    kommenden 

Frieden.) 

16.  Durkheim,  Germany  Over  All. 

17.  H.  Bergson,  The  Meaning  of  the  War. 

18.  J.  Burnet,  Higher  Education  and  the  War. 

19.  C.  L.  Drawbridge,  The  War  and  Religious  Ideals. 

20.  M.  Dide,  Les  Emotions  et  la  Guerre. 

21.  D.  G.  Brinton,  The  Basis  of  Social  Relations. 

22.  Ernesta  R.   Bullitt,  An  Uncensored  Diary  from  the  Central 

Empires. 

23.  Hundert  Briefe  Aus  dem  Felde. 

24.  Mrs.  Denis  O'Sullivan,  Harry  Butters  "An  American  Citi- 

zen." 

25.  W.  Irwin,  Men,  Women  and  War. 

26.  G.  Roethe,  Von  Deutscher  Art  and  Kultur, 

327 


328  Bibliography 

27.  J.  W.  Gerard,  My  Four  Years  in  Germany. 

28.  VV.  R.  Roberts,  Patriotic  Poetry:  Greek  and  English. 

29.  Schmitz,  Das  Wirkliche  Deutschland. 

30.  Redier,  Comrades  in  Courage. 

31.  Igglesden,  Out  There. 

32.  Madame  Lucy  Hoesch-Ernst,  Patriotismus  und  Patriotitis. 

33.  W.  E.  Ritter,  War,  Science  and  Civilization. 

34.  Hobhouse,  The  World  in  Conflict. 

35.  G.  S.  Fullerton,  Germany  of  To-day. 

36.  A.  Pinchot,  War  and  the  King  Trust. 

37.  J.  T.  MacCurdy,  The  Psychology  of  War. 

38.  E.  L.  Fox,  Behind  the  Scenes  in  Warring  Germany. 

39.  J.  Chapman,  Deutschland  Ueber  Alles. 

40.  G.  Blondel,  Les  Embarras  de  I'Allemagne. 

41.  P.  Bigelow,  The  German  Emperor  and  His  Eastern  Neigh- 

bors. 

42.  G.  Le  Bon,  The  Psychology  of  the  Great  War. 

43.  T.  A.  Cook,  Kultur  and  Catastrophe. 

44.  Cheradame,  The  German  Plat  Unmasked. 

45.  J.  B.  Booth,  The  Gentle  Cultured  German. 

46.  J.  Claes,  The  German  Mole. 

47.  T.  F.  A.  Smith,  The  Soul  of  Germany. 

48.  W.  N.  Willis.  What  Germany  Wants. 

49.  Hintze,  The  Meaning  of  the  War.     (Modern  Germany.) 

50.  Zitelmann,    The    War    and    International     Law.     (Modern 

Germany.) 

51.  Schmoller,     Origin     and    Nature    of     German     Institutions. 

(Modern  Germany.) 

52.  Hintze,    Germany   and   the   World    Powers.     (Modern    Ger- 

many.) 

53.  F.    Meinecke,    Kultur    Policy    of    Power    and    Militarism. 

(Modern  Germany.) 

54.  O.  G.  Villard,  Germany  Embattled. 

55.  E.  J.  Dillon,  Ourselves  and  Germany. 

56.  R.  MacFall,  Germany  at  Bay. 

57.  C.  Tower,  Changing  Germany. 

58.  W.  R.  Thayer,  Germany  vs.  Civilization, 

59.  Lamprecht,  What  Is  History? 

60.  B.  T.  Curtin,  The  Land  of  Deepening  Shadows. 

61.  P.  Bigelow,  Prussian  Memories. 

62.  E.  Troeltsch,  The  Spirit  of  German  Kultur.     (Modern  Ger- 

many.) 

63.  A.  Guilland,  Modern  Germany  and  Her  Historians. 

64.  T.  F.  A.  Smith,  What  Germany  Thinks. 


Bibliography  '?  2  9 

65.  Von  Bulow,  Imperial  Germany. 

66.  J.  A.  Cramb,  Germany  and  England. 
6y.  G.  Bourdon,  The  German  Enigma. 

68.  P.  Collier,  Germany  and  Germans. 

69.  H.  B.  Swope,  Inside  the  German  Empire. 

70.  Sumner,  Folkways. 

71.  J.   Novicow,  Les  Luttes  Entre   Societes  Humaines  en  Leur 

Phases  Successives. 

72.  H.  Gibson,  A  Journal  from  Our  Legation  in  Belgium. 

73.  A.  M.  Pooley,  Japan  at  the  Cross-Roads. 

74.  F.  J.  Adkins,  The  War. 

75.  H.  E.  Powers,  The  Things  Men  Fight  For. 

76.  J.  M'Cabe,  The  Soul  of  Europe. 

77.  Scheler,  Der  Genius  des  Krieges  und  der  Deutsche  Krieg. 

78.  S.  Freud.  Reflections  on  War  and  Death. 

79.  Nicolai,  Die  Biologic  des  Krieges. 

80.  P.  Gibbs,  The  Soul  of  the  War. 

81.  T.  Roosevelt,  America  and  the  World  War, 

82.  W.  Trotter,  Instincts  of  the  Herd  in  Peace  and  War. 

83.  J.  Novicow,  Der  Krieg  und  Seine  Angeblichen  Wohltaten. 

84.  "G.  R.  S.  Taylor,  The  Psychology  of  the  Great  War. 

85.  W.  Wundt,  Die  Nationen  und  Ihre  Philosophic. 

86.  Nusbaum,  Der  Krieg  im  Lichte  der  Biologic. 

87.  Edith  Wharton,  Fighting  France. 

88.  Crile,  A  Mechanistic  View  of  War  and  Peace. 

89.  Eleanor  M.  Sidgwick,  The  Morality  of  Strife  in  Relation  to 

the  War.     (The  International  Crisis.) 

90.  G.  Murray,  Herd  Instinct  and  the  War.     (The  International 

Crisis.) 

91.  Bosanquet,  Patriotism  in  the  Perfect  State.     (The  Interna- 

tional Crisis.) 

92.  A.   G.   Bradley,  International  Morality.     (The  International 

Crisis.) 

93.  L.  P.  Jacks,  The  Changing  Mind  of  a  Nation  at  War.     (The 

International  Crisis.) 

94.  G.  F.  Stout,  War  and  Hatred.     (The  International  Crisis.) 

95.  E.  Mach,  What  Germany  Wants. 

96.  F.  Peil,  Der  Weltkrieg. 

97.  T.  Veblen,  The  Nature  of  Peace. 

98.  Hirschfeld,  Kriegsbiologisches. 

99.  H.  A.  Gibbons,  The  New  Map  of  Europe. 
100.  F.  C.  Howe,  Why  War? 


INDEX 


Esthetic,  elements  in  war,  70-77; 

in  education,  230,  315-318 
Aggressive  instinct,  40-45 
American  life,  248;  mores,  221 
Anger,  14 
Autocracy  and  democracy,  104 

Bergson,  ^6,  loi,  no 
Biological  principles,  3  ff. 
Bourdon,  90,   129 
Boutroux,  55,  loi,  236 
Boy  Scouts,  198 
British  Labor  Party,  273 
Burnet,  311 

Cannibalism,  13-14 

Causes  in  war,  97-109 

Chapman,  52 

Christianity,  307 

City,  moods,   188 

Civics,  264 

Clae§,  129 

Cleveland,  260 

Cobden,  137 

Collier,  90 

Colonies,  129 

Combat,  instinct  of,  53-58 

Conscientious  objectors,  200 

Consciousness  of  kind,  8 

Cramb,  75,  256 

Creative  activity,  283 

Darwin,  in 

Death,  71 

Democracy,  232,  253  ff. ;  spirit  of, 

185-191 
Dickinson,  261 
Dide,  52 
Dillon,  102,  272 
Display,  74 


278;  school,  190 


Dominant,  35 
Drawbridge,  102 
Duelling,  93 
Durkheim,  115 

Economic  factors,  128-141 

Economy,  275 

Ecstasy,  23,  64 

Educational  problems,  161-167 

Empire,  148 

England,  123,  244 

Fear,  14,  41 
Ferrero,  52 
Feudalism,  35 
Finance,  134 
French,  The,  24,  55,  244 
Freudians,  20 
Future,  The,  viii 

Germany,  34,  43,  50,  55,  8g,  98,  106, 
n5,  124,  126,  198,  239,  245 

Gibbs,  54 

Government,  242  ff. ;  functions  of, 
251 

Hatred,  46-52 

Herd,  The,  4,  10,  18,  57,  62 

Heroes,  234 

Hintzc.  99 

Hirschfeld,  23 

Historical  causes  in  war,  149 

History,  teaching  of,   173,  266 

Hobhouse,  loi 

Hobson,  260 

Hocking,  167 

Home-love,  81,  216 

Homogeneity  of  species,  60 

Howe,  135,  136 

Hullquist,  137 


331 


332 


Inde: 


Humanism,  309,  314 
Humanities,  312 

Industrialism,  33,  134,  220 
Industry,  and  education,  269-289; 

the  higher,   184 
Instincts,  4-5,  28,  38-69 
Institutional   factors  in  war,  125 
International   law,   192 
Internationalism,   168-196 
Intoxication  motive,  31 

James,  266 
Japanese,  90,  119 
Jones,  21 
Justice,  205,  311 

Lamprecht,  34 

Land  hunger,  131 

Leadership,  84,  142,  176 

LeBon,   3,    18,    102,    iii,    119,    129, 

135,  244 
Lehmann,  237 
Loyalty,  228;  to  leaders,  231 

M'Cabe,  9 

MacCurdy,  48,  56,  58,  201 

Mach,  135 

Marot,  284 

Militarism,  197  ff. 

Military  training,  208-210 

Mitchell,  9 

Moods,  in  education,  319 

Moral  influences  in  war,  117-127 

Murray,  18 

Mysticism,  120 

Napoleon,  113 

National,  character  study,  224  ;  de- 
sires,  175 ;  honor,  88-96 

Nationalism,  79-96;  and  interna- 
tionalism, 105 

Nicolai,  3,  19,  56,  70,  78,  129,  217 

Nietzsche,  no 

Novicow,  19,  137 

Noyes,  271 

Nusbaum,  45 

Nutritional  motive,  38 


Objectives,  140,  143 
O'Ryan  and  Anderson,  45 
Ostwald,  98 

Pacifists,  200 

Patriotism,  79-96,  211-241;  ele- 
ments of,  80,  215 

Patten,  115 

Peace,   197  ff. ;  ideals  of,  vi,  205 

Pessimism,  43 

Pfistcr,  45 

Philosophical,  attitude,  194;  influ- 
ences in  war,  110-116 

Political,  education,  242-268;  fac- 
tors, 142-152;  ideals,  235 

Power,  motive  of,  29,  130 

Powers,   130 

Practical  interests,  180-183 

Praise  of  war,  199 

Preparedness,  208-210 

President  of  the  United  States, 
102 

Pressure  of  population,  129 

Preventive  wars,  44 

Primitive  tendencies,  38 

Progress,  v,  321 

Property,  138 

Prophets,  viii-ix 

Psycho-analysis,  179 

Race  patriotism,  226 

Rationalism  and  humanism,  107 

Recreational  life,  303 

Redier,  85 

Religion  and  education,  305-308 

Religious   influences  in   war,   117- 

127 
Reproductive  motive,  38,  66,  73,  76 
Reuter,  Frau,  51 

Reversion  theories  of  war,  17-23 
Russell,  17,  167,  246,  305 

Savorgnan,  201 
Scheler,  7,  47 
Sciences,  314 
Scientific  movement,  II2 
Selection,  5  ff. 


Index 


333 


Sexes,  299 

Smith,  51 

Social,  education,  282ff.,  290-304; 
feeling,  82;  history,  301;  in- 
stincts, 58 ;  solidarity,  63 

Socialism,  259 

Specialization,  281 

Stevens,  138 

Sumner,  121,  132 

Synthesis  of  causes,  153-157 

Thayer,  56 
Thrift,  285 
Tower,  98 


Tragedy,  71 

Trotter,  9,  18,  58,  233,  291,  295 

Unconscious  motives,  17  ff. 
Universal  language,  193 

Veblen,  46,  78,  ^2,7 
Venezelos,  151 
Von  Biilow,  115 

War,  as  dramatic  story,  22 ;  mo- 
tives of,  vii,  13,  15;  moods,  25 
ff.,  70  ff. ;  origin  of,  3  ^■ 

World,  idea,  170;  organization,  191 

Wundt,  90 


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